


Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone

by AidanChase



Series: Harry Potter: Everyone Lives AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Rewrite, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. and Mrs. Potter were not perfectly ordinary people. They did not live on an ordinary street like you or I. They did not have a small house with a number to differentiate it from the identical houses on either side of it. They had, in fact, quite the opposite of it all.</p><p>----</p><p>How different would the world of Harry Potter be if James and Lily had lived?</p><p>  <i>Ships not listed because I'm unsure if there will be deviations from canon in that respect. Characters will be added as they appear.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to rewrite all seven years at Hogwarts. Let's see how this goes.
> 
> \-----
> 
> This all began because I wanted to reread Harry Potter, but I couldn't do it without imagining the "what if" and how different it might be with James and Lily being present for it all. I never honestly expected it to get this far, and I can't believe it's still going strong. I'm so happy so many people have enjoyed what I've written. I hope you enjoy it too.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were not perfectly ordinary people. They did not live on an ordinary street like you or I. They did not have a small house with a number to differentiate it from the identical houses on either side of it. They had, in fact, quite the opposite of it all.

Mr. Potter was a tall, gangly man with spectacles and an easy smile. Mrs. Potter was a tall graceful woman, with long red hair and brilliant green eyes. Her smile was as carefree and frequent as her husband’s, and her laughter was louder. The Potters had a small son called Harry and in their opinion, there was no finer boy.

The Potters had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret. Their son was in fact, prophesied to be the most dangerous threat to a very dangerous man. They were on the run, in hiding from everyone they had once loved and trusted, except for one man. A man named Peter Pettigrew.

On the gloomy Monday our story begins, there was nothing strange or ominous about what that day would bring. Mr. and Mrs. Potter went about their day in their secret hiding place as if nothing was amiss. They believed they could trust Peter with their secret, and they were not afraid.

That night, however, was the most terrifying night of their lives. Their friend had betrayed them to the very man they feared—the same very dangerous man—and he had come to kill their son.

But in the end, Peter stood between them and that dangerous man and took the killing blow for the Potters and their son. That sacrifice protected their family, and on a gray Tuesday, James and Lily Potter woke up in a home turned to rubble, and a baby safe in their arms, with a lighting bolt-shaped wound embedded in his forehead: evidence that their baby had done the impossible. Their baby had survived a curse meant to kill, and fulfilled the prophesy laid on him before his birth.

Word spread rather quickly, by mouth and by owl, of a boy who lived.

When the dust had settled, the Healers had looked over their baby, and the Aurors had confirmed the destruction of that very-dangerous-man, Lily sat down at the dining room table in their old home, James’s family’s estate, and composed a letter. A letter she’d thought about very often, but never sat down to write. She thought that perhaps now, without the threat of a madman and a prophecy hanging over her head, she could write it.

She began with, “Dear Sister,” but she sighed, tapped her wand against the paper, and the letters disappeared from the page. This time, she began the letter with, “Dear Petunia.”

She paused, tapped the feathered quill against her chin, then went back to writing.

"I am sure you have noticed a few strange things today. There are owls everywhere, lots of fireworks, and wizards celebrating in the streets."

With another tap of her wand, the word “wizards” vanished, and she filled in the small space with a very cramped, “my sort of people.”

"The truth is, we had a bit of an accident here. I mean me and James and Harry, not just my sort of people. I’d been meaning to write to you all year, ever since Harry’s birth announcement, but a very dangerous man was on the loose. You probably didn’t hear of him. He killed a lot of Muggles—" Lily erased the word "Muggles" and filled in "your sort of people," before continuing, "but it was very well-covered-up. And this same man was after Harry. James and I have been on the run and in hiding all year. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to write to each other more. As it is, last night, that dangerous man came to kill Harry. There’s nothing like a life-or-death situation to remind you what you value most in the world. I know Vernon and James don’t get on, but you’re my sister, and I would love to see you. I do miss you. Your son would be about Harry’s age now, wouldn’t he? We can take them out to the park. Have a stroll. Do something perfectly ordinary. I miss you terribly, and would love to see you. Please write soon."

And she signed it with, “Your dearest Lily,” then frowned. That was how she usually signed her letters to James. Her wand hovered over the paper momentarily, then she dropped it without changing a dot of ink.

It was the same problem as always: regular post or owl post. Her sister would never read a letter dropped off by an owl. That meant Muggle post. That meant a trip into town. That meant stamps. That meant Muggle money exchanges.

Lily left the letter lying on the table and went upstairs to the baby’s room.

Harry was in his crib, turning fitfully in his sleep. James was sprawled in a chair, head lolling to one side, glasses askew, and a bit of drool just beginning to drip out the side of his mouth.

Lily leaned over the edge of the crib and whispered quietly to soothe her baby. James stirred in his sleep, and Lily moved to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. She gently pried the wand from his tightly clenched fist and rested it on the table next to him.

"I’m not letting it go," he’d said to her that morning. "Never again."

"You’ll have to eventually," she’d said with a genuine smile that somehow made her obnoxiously practical truths bearable.

She tucked a heavy blanket over James—it was November, after all, and he was bound to get cold in the middle of the night.

Instead of going back to her letter, she went to the master bedroom and changed into her sleeping attire. She sat down on the bed, looked around the large empty room, then grabbed as many pillows as she could carry and took them into her baby’s room. She piled the pillows up, pulled a blanket over herself, and fell asleep, there on the floor, wand clutched tightly in her hand.


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a trip to the zoo and discovers he has an unusual ability.

Nearly ten years had passed since that nightmarish evening, where the Potters' home was invaded by a mad man. And though that home was reduced to rubble, James, Lily, and Harry now lived comfortably in James's family home, a very large estate named Styncon Garden, after the oldest Potter anyone knew, Linfred of Stinchcombe, a man who loved wizards and Muggles alike, and had a habit of giving his healing potions to unsuspecting midwives and Muggle villagers in the area. He'd also grown a lot of unusual plants, at least, unusual to Muggles. And though the garden had changed plants as many generations of Potters cultivated the flowers and herbs they each liked best, the spells inside the house had not changed. Inside, it was filled old magic tucked away in the walls.

There was a grandfather clock in the living room that chimed every hour, like a normal clock. But it also chimed at 3:33 and 8:17. There were drawers that only opened on rainy days and some that never opened at all. And it wouldn't help anyone if we started talking about the attic. That could take another ten years.

There were many portraits hanging from the walls, all of old wizards with kind smiles. And, on the fireplace mantle sat new pictures of a young couple and their young son. These pictures did not speak the way the portraits did. They did not admonish you to comb your hair or advise you to watch out for the loud buzzer that sounded when you stepped on dead center of the fourth stair, the way the large hanging paintings did. These photographs only moved, like a single moment being replayed over and over again. On some of them, you could hear laughter.

These pictures were of James and Lily and Harry, and of Harry growing from a tiny baby into a strong ten-year-old boy. He was much skinnier than the chubby baby in the earliest photographs, and his hair had grown out dark and unruly like his father's. But he had his mother's brilliant green eyes. And--his most prominent feature--he had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead that he was quite proud of, most of the time.

When he went out with his parents, there were witches and wizards everywhere who knew his name and knew him by the scar on his forehead. It was very important, whatever it was he had done. But James and Lily did not tell him anything more than, "It's the mark of something great and something terrible. We'll tell you when you're older." Those were the days he was not proud of his scar, the days where James and Lily spoke in hushed whispers, with voices full of something sad.

Today, however, there was nothing to be sad about. The sunlight filtered in through the window of Harry's bedroom, but he rolled over and pulled his pillow over his face. He wasn't ready to be awake yet. Until his mother called from the stairs, "Rise and shine, Harry! Sirius is almost here!"

His feet were flat on the floor in a second.

Sirius was Harry's godfather, and practically James's brother. Lily tried convincing everyone to use, "Uncle Sirius," (both James and Sirius protested Mr. Black), but it never quite stuck. Sirius was always just Sirius.

The best thing about Sirius, in Harry's opinion wasn't even the loud flying motorbike or the daring tricks he could do on a broom. The most exciting thing about Sirius was his love and knowledge of the Muggle world. Whenever Harry went out with Sirius, it was an exciting Muggle adventure. To the movies, to a restaurant that only served three kinds of food at costs that Harry learned equated to Knuts, or to amusement parks with coasters as high as any professional Quidditch match Harry had ever seen.

Of course, Lily knew about the Muggle world too, but Mum explaining the difference between a mailing stamp and a rubber stamp wasn't nearly as exciting as Sirius explaining it.

Today, Sirius was taking him to the zoo. It was a school day for Muggle children, so it was the zoo ought to be rather empty. Harry expected he and Sirius would have a complete run of the place.

Lily had tried putting Harry in a Muggle school at first, to learn his numbers and letters, but he hadn't made it past the first grade. Not that he wasn't smart. All of his teachers were impressed with his work. It was the students he didn't get along with.

He'd been strictly ordered not to answer questions about his scar, or to talk about magic while he was at school. So, when a student inevitably asked him, he would quietly mumble something about a staircase or a broken mirror, like he'd been told to. He ended up teased by some of the older students for his awkward answers, but his good-natured spirit allowed him friends. Still, there was the unfortunate matter of his magical abilities.

Most magical children could not do much more than break a glass when they were upset, or maybe levitate a small object if they concentrated very hard. Their magic was uncoordinated and untapped without proper training. Harry, however, performed rather intense spells for a child. One time he'd shrunk a set of dress robes he hated wearing, just by insisting they wouldn't fit. Another time he'd gotten a hold of his father's broom (instead of his, which was charmed to stay at safe heights and speeds) and zipped halfway across the county before his parents knew he'd gone. At six, James said it was more miraculous than dangerous. Lily disagreed. The worst was he'd been running from a school bully and ended up on the rooftop. That was when James put his foot down and insisted Harry be educated at home. If their son was powerful enough to Apparate without a wand or training, he wasn't safe around Muggle children. And Muggle children weren't safe around him.

So Harry learned his numbers from his mother, his letters from his father, his sciences from Uncle Remus, and bits of wizarding history from both Sirius and his father. But he wouldn't be educated at home forever.

Harry was ten now, eleven in the summer, and he would be going to Hogwarts in the fall. Hogwarts would teach him how to be a proper wizard, with his own wand and everything. And there would be Quidditch and duels and a House Cup. He truly couldn't wait.

Until then, it was days at home with mum and dad, the occasional Quidditch game, and trips into the Muggle world with Sirius (or the less exciting trips with Mum).

Harry ate his eggs and toast as quickly as he could, "Just because you finish faster doesn't mean he'll get here faster," Lily scolded, but Harry didn't listen. He swung his legs anxiously while she tried to comb his hair flat. It wouldn't lie down at all.

"Make sure you talk about magic quietly when you're out today."

"Yes, Mum."

"And Sirius is not allowed to fly the bike while you ride it. Don't let him."

"Yes, Mum."

"And don't talk to Muggle strangers. They're not like wizards. They--" But she was drowned out by the deafening roar of a motorbike. Harry downed his orange juice in one gulp, shouted, "Yes, Mum!" and ran to the door.

Just in time for James to walk in, still in his pajamas, hair as messy as his son's, and eyes bleary. He squinted about the kitchen without his glasses. "Sirius here?" he asked and yawned.

"Just pulled in," Lily smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'll tell him you aren't decent."

James snorted. "I've never been decent around Sirius."

"Just decent for me, then?"

"You get my most decent and my most indecent," he said with a grin and tugged at the backside of her dress. Lily swatted his hand away and went outside to make sure Sirius wasn't flying off with her only son.

The spring day wasn't exactly cool, but Sirius was still dressed in a leather jacket, with thick black boots laced up over his jeans. His long black hair hung loose to his shoulders, and he was grinning wide as he picked Harry up in a hug.

"Won't be able to do that much longer," he laughed as he set Harry down. "You'll be as big as your dad soon."

With Harry out of his arms, Sirius pulled Lily into a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. "James out of bed yet?"

"Nearly," she smiled at him. "Did you get breakfast?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Thank you."

"Let's go," Harry pleaded, and climbed onto the bike. He grabbed his helmet, complete with a lightning bolt on the front--he and Sirius had both agreed it was perfect; Lily and James were less enthused--and sat in his seat. Lily made sure he was buckled in safely.

"I know how to take care of him," Sirius sighed.

"I know, I know. I do trust you," Lily smiled. "And no flying."

"No flying," he agreed with a grin. "James would probably transfigure and collar me if I did."

"Glad you see it our way," she smiled, then kissed Harry's cheek. "And you'll be careful--"

"Yes, Mum," Harry said with exasperation so far above ten years old he could only have learned it from Sirius and James.

"Alright, alright, go," she smiled and stepped away so Sirius could mount the bike.

With a roar like a chimera, the bike took off down the dirt road that connected the Potters' estate to the other houses in the countryside.

Harry sat patiently, as he always did, enjoying the way the countryside passed them by in a blur of colors. He loved the way it felt like riding a broom, but somehow more dangerous--perhaps the noise and the jerking. The dirt road eventually turned onto a highway, the countryside into suburbs, and the suburbs into a city.

The zoo was exciting. There were lions, tigers, penguins, rhinoceros, giraffes, and all sorts of animals Harry had never even heard of (like a wallaby). Sirius mentioned a few magical creatures that would be interesting to see--hippogriffs and unicorns and hippalectryons.

"You'll learn about all those at Hogwarts, though," Sirius said with a smile.

"I can't wait!" Harry said and skipped over to the kangaroos. "Dad says I'll have to wait to play Quidditch, though."

"First years can't, but you'll have plenty else to keep you busy. Astronomy and Charms and Transfiguration," he had a secretive smile on his face.

"And Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"I'm sure you'll be great at that."

Harry was excitable and ten, but he wasn't unobservant or ignorant. He noticed Sirius's tone shift and it made him feel uncomfortable. He knew his mother and father were excellent in Defense Against the Dark Arts--he'd overheard stories when they thought he was sleeping, and he'd watched his parents duel for fun--and he knew he could be just as good. But whenever he brought it up around his family (and Sirius and Uncle Remus were family), they would get very quiet. The same tone of voice they used about his scar.

Harry walked way from the kangaroos towards the reptile house, trying to think of a way to broach the subject of his scar with Sirius. James and Lily always said, "when you're older," which was the most irritating answer he could get. "That's for your mum and your dad to say," was Uncle Remus's answer. And Sirius was the only one who would accidentally let a secret or two out. One time, he'd gotten Sirius to say, "You saved the wizarding world," and he'd thought it seemed silly for his parents to be so secretive about something so wonderful. But Sirius had also said, "A lot of good people died," and it wasn't at Harry--Harry knew Sirius was thinking aloud and hadn't meant to say it at all. So Harry didn't say anything, but filed that away under reasons that maybe his scar wasn't so great after all.

He paused at the display of a sleeping boa constrictor. It was huge, large enough to wrap around Sirius motorcycle, twice, and if the description of the creature on the plaque was anything to go by, it would break Sirius's motorcycle in half. It sounded frightfully dangerous, but it looked so harmless, curled up and sleeping.

He heard Sirius's noise of disgust behind him. "Not much for snakes. I'll just uh, wait outside then?"

Harry only shrugged, rather interested in the snake. It sounded like such an exciting creature, but stuck behind a glass for people to stare at and annoy--like that young couple tapping on the glass.

Maybe all that was why Harry was excited to go to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts he could find out who he was, and what his scar meant--all the secrets his family wouldn't tell him. At Hogwarts there would be teachers who would know, surely. Then again, the teachers would have all the same answers his parents did--"when you're older." But he couldn't wait until he was seventeen. That was far too long.

But surely other students would have answers. Students who had parents who knew. Older students who would have maybe learned in their classes what had happened that was so amazing all wizards knew about it, but so sad that no one in Harry's family wanted to talk about it.

The obnoxious couple moved on, tired of the sleeping snake. The moment they moved on, the snake opened its beady eyes and slithered towards Harry. Then it raised its eyes so that it was level with Harry, and it winked.

Harry grinned back. "Sirius may think you're creepy, but I think you're alright."

The snake lowered its head, as if to say "thank you," and Harry couldn't help but think it was smiling at him.

"Harry, you still in here?" Sirius's voice called. "Did you want to see the birds? They're as colorful as phoenixes."

Harry glanced toward the end of the reptile house, where he could just make out Sirius coming back in. He smiled at the thought that Lily would not approve of how loudly Sirius had said "phoenix."

He looked back at the snake. "Guess I'd better go."

The snake turned its head in the direction Harry had, and Harry hated to see how sad the snake looked. It must not have known anything besides these glass walls. People staring at him, day in and day out, with nothing really to do. At least Harry had a broom, even if it was charmed to stay below fifty feet.

"Harry," Sirius called again, and Harry could see him just a few feet away. Reluctantly he pulled away from the glass and walked back towards Sirius.

"I'm ready."

"Really into that snake?"

"I think it liked me," Harry shrugged, and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Better you than me, mate. Come, let's--"

Harry's eyes went wide when Sirius stopped talking. They both saw the same thing. The snake, slithering out onto the floor. No broken glass or anything, just pure open space between the display and the walkway, and the snake was quickly crossing that space. It looked at Harry, winked again, and Harry swore he heard it say, "Thanks," but Harry wasn't quite sure what for.

"Harry," Sirius started in a choked voice.

"I didn't mean to make the glass disappear. I didn't even think about it, it just--"

"No, that's fine. We'd better go home."

"You're not going to put the snake back?" Harry asked, partially worried and partially teasing.

Sirius looked positively green at the thought and started for the exit of the zoo.

When they got home, Lily and James were just finishing lunch.

"You're back so early," Lily said and hugged Harry.

"How was it?" James asked, but frowned at Sirius's grim face. The three adults disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind them, leaving Harry in the dining room to help himself to lunch leftovers. He grabbed the unfinished half of his dad's sandwich and crouched at the door to listen.

"You're sure that's what happened?" Lily asked.

"Positive," Sirius answered.

"I'll write to Dumbledore," James said.

"And what do we tell Harry?" Lily said.

"When he's old enough--"

"He'll be off to Hogwarts soon. We can't keep it from him any longer than that."

"Then we'll tell him before he leaves."

The conversation seemed done at that point, so Harry quickly went back to the table and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.

That evening, at a very quiet dinner, after Sirius had gone home, Harry said, "I didn't mean to make the glass disappear. It was an accident."

James and Lily looked surprised by this meek confession and both immediately got up from the table and went to hug Harry.

"We're not upset with you for that," James said.

"We're not upset with you at all," Lily corrected.

"We just worry about you."

And Lily knelt so she was eye level with Harry. "Did you talk to that snake today?"

"Sort of. It winked at me."

"And what did it say?"

"It just said 'Thanks.' For the glass, I suppose."

"Talking to snakes is a very rare gift," James said. "Even among wizards. Just be careful who you tell about it," was all he said.

Harry suddenly felt like it all made sense. Of course Sirius would be upset about Harry talking to snakes. Sirius hated snakes. He wasn't sure what it had to do with Dumbledore, but he also didn't really care about that.

"Can I tell Uncle Remus?"

"Of course," Lily said with a smile.

"And... can I ask a snake to take a nap on Sirius's motorbike next time he comes over?"

James grinned. "Definitely. I'll even help you find one."


	3. The Letter from Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and celebrates his eleventh birthday.

Harry spent nearly every day of July at the window, anxiously awaiting the owl that would bring his letter.

"Will it come today, Mum?"

"I don't tell the owls when to deliver letters."

"But you could tell them, couldn't you?"

"And how would I do that?"

"You and Dad write to Dumbledore all the time. Just write him a letter and tell him to send my Hogwarts letter back right now."

"Dumbledore won't be writing the letter. It'll be the Deputy Headmistress."

"Then write her and tell her to send me my letter."

"Be patient."

On Monday, Harry came down the stairs rather morose. He picked at his eggs and nibbled on his toast and turned down porridge.

"What's the matter?" James had asked.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts."

"What? When did you decide this?"

"My letter hasn't come. I don't think I'll be going."

"You're not eleven yet. It'll come soon."

And with the grave sagacity only a nearly-eleven-year-old-boy could muster he said, "No. I've already come to terms with my fate. I'll not be a real wizard after all."

James wanted to laugh. He tried very hard not to laugh. With a twitching mouth he had patted his son's arm, choked out, in as sympathetic a tone he could manage, "I'm sure it will come soon," then nearly ran to Lily in the next room to tell her what had happened.

James and Lily spent the day talking him out of his strange low. And by the end of the day he was back to waiting at the window, watching for the owl.

"They'll not send it after dark." James tried to call him to dinner, but he didn't budge, and fell asleep in the window sill without eating at all.

The next morning, Harry was woken at sunrise by an owl tapping at the window. He scrambled to pull the glass open and the owl fluttered in, dropping a thick parchment envelope into his lap. It was addressed:

 _Mr. H. Potter_  
Styncon Garden  
Stinchcombe, Gloucestershire County

"Mum! Dad!" he shouted.

The owl screeched as Harry bolted to his feet, toppling the bird onto the floor.

"Mum! Dad!" It was louder than Harry had been on any Christmas morning as he bounced into their bedroom. James groaned at the weight and Lily rolled over with a sigh.

"It came, did it?" James mumbled and fumbled for his glasses on the dressing table. He didn't find them, but his hand tightened around his wand. "Accio glasses," he mumbled. His glasses came to him, but so did Harry's. "Merlin's beard," he muttered as he sat up and gave Harry back his glasses.

"Spells before seven, James, we've talked about this," Lily said groggily as she too sat up.

"Right, right." He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Well, congrats, Harry. Did you open it?"

Harry proceeded to rip open the parchment, "Carefully, or you'll tear it," Lily warned, and Harry drew his letter out, written on standard wizarding parchment, as thick as the envelope it had been sent in.

" _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY," Harry read aloud.

" _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class--_

"Mum, Dad, you have that, don't you?"

Lily and James gave him gentle smiles for an answer, and Harry read on, " _Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_ \--

"He sounds important.

" _Dear Mr Potter,_  
_"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
"Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
"Yours sincerely,  
"Minerva McGonagall,  
"Deputy Headmistress."

Harry quickly picked up the list of supplies he would need for school. "Does this mean we'll be going to Diagon Alley?" he asked excitedly.

Lily took the list from him and looked it over. "No where else to get a standard cauldron." She wrinkled her nose. "They still require you to wear hats? Ugh. I've really been wishing they'd change that."

"Maybe it's only for special feasts or things like that," James shrugged.

"It says for day wear."

"No fashionable wizards wear hats anymore. That's ridiculous."

"The Malfoys wear hats," Lily said with a smile.

"My point exactly." James shook his head. "I'll be quill-ing a strongly worded letter to Dumbledore. Hats. Really."

Harry didn't care much about whether he needed to wear a hat or not. He just wanted to go to Hogwarts. He'd show up in bright red shoes with purple hair if they asked him to. "Can we go to Diagon Alley today?"

"No, no," Lily shook her head. "We've got a lot to do to get ready for your birthday next week. We'll go to Diagon Alley afterwards."

The next week was a flurry of excitement. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, pruning the garden in the back. Lily said the wild look gave it character; James said he was worried it looked alive and could eat the guests. Harry said that it might be more exciting if the plants did eat the guests. He'd become rather dismal about the party ever since he found out he had to wear dress robes for it.

On the day of the party, a large cake was set in the garden under a small tent. Sirius and Uncle Remus arrived early and helped James set up the tent and a few minor enchantments to keep the summer heat from beating down on the guests. And there were a lot of guests.

Augusta Longbottom was the first to arrive. Her son Frank, his wife Alice, and their son Neville were close behind. Dumbledore arrived early, but didn't stay long. He said his hellos to everyone present, told Harry to have a wonderful birthday--"Eleven is an important year for a young man," took a slice of cake, charmed it from chocolate to lemon, then said his goodbyes.

Minerva McGonagall, the Weasley family, the Bones family, and the Prewett brothers arrived.

The children naturally grouped together--Susan, Harry, Ron, and Neville. Ginny tagged along next to Ron, swinging her short legs in the chair and picking at her chocolate cake. The twins were nowhere to be seen, and Percy was busy showing his prefect badge off to any adult who would pat his shoulder and tell him how excited they were for him.

"I want to go with all of you," Ginny pouted.

"You can come next year," Susan said with a smile.

"I don't want to go at all," Neville moaned, and worked his way through his second piece of cake with the steady pace of a marathon runner.

"It'll be exciting," Harry said. "We'll all be in Gryffindor, of course."

"I'll be in Hufflepuff," Neville said assuredly.

Ron looked green at the thought. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, too. I'll never live it down."

"It doesn't matter where we end up," Susan scolded them. "Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff, you know."

The five children turned their heads to look at the young woman chatting with Sirius and Remus. Her hair was a bright pink, and while she spoke, she was tapping her fingernails against the table. Her fingers would roll once, perfectly normal, but then they'd grow long like dragon claws or tiny and sharp like cat claws every few clicks.

"Fred and George said I'll be in Hufflepuff for sure," Ron said gloomily.

"Course you will, mate," one of the twins popped out from under the table. The other one followed close behind, and Neville fell backwards from his chair in shock.

"You'll never make it past the sorting into Gryffindor," the other said.

"How do you get sorted? Is it a test?" Ginny asked.

"Oh yes," they said in unison.

"There's a long written essay," one said, "and then there's the practical, of course," the other chimed in.

"What's the practical?" Ron asked nervously.

"Facing a dragon of course."

Harry and Susan burst into laughter. Neville and Ron looked ill.

Before anyone could assure Neville and Ron that the twins were joking, the Macmillans arrived. Ernie Macmillan, loud as usual, made formal greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, then practically bounced his way over to where the other children his age were.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he said loudly.

"Thanks. There's cake--"

"Don't mind if I do. Thank you so much."

Ginny giggled and Susan rolled her eyes. Ernie was always like this--eleven years old, and pretending he was thirty-five in a different era. They were all rather used to it, and it was a blessing they only had to see him at family parties.

"Are you all ready for Hogwarts? I'm ready, myself. Got my books and everything. Mum let me try a few charms out, for practice. I expect I'll be well ahead of the class when we begin. It's a shame we can't bring a broom. I'd've loved to play a bit of Quidditch, for fun, of course."

"We can't bring a broom?" Harry nearly choked on his cake. He hadn't seen that in his letter. Suddenly Hogwarts did not sound nearly as exciting.

"We'll let you borrow ours," the twins grinned. "Little Ronnie does sometimes, that is, when he can get it off the ground."

"I can too fly," he snapped.

"Yeah, but Ginny always outstrips you by a mile."

"So what?" he mumbled. "I can fly a broom."

Ginny looked to Harry, to see what he thought of her flying faster than Ron, but he wasn't listening. Harry was busy wondering if he could convince his father to let him smuggle in a broom. It would have to be behind his mother's back. She would never approve of it. But he knew his father had played Quidditch at Hogwarts. Surely he would understand.

As the sun set and the evening settled in, people began to say their goodbyes. The Longbottoms first, the Prewetts, the Tonks--Nymphadora lingered a while longer, until nearly everyone else had gone, before finally excusing herself--the MacMillans, the Weasleys, and Minerva. The last guests were Susan Bones, her aunt, her parents, and of course Sirius and Remus were still there.

Susan and Harry had moved inside, and were playing wizard chess. They were on their third game, and clearly quite tired of each other. Their eyes kept drifting outside to the adults conversation, which was no longer in separate parties. Amelia Bones was speaking and the children were trying very hard to listen, but she was too quiet for them to hear anything other than murmurs.

"He has a right to know," Sirius's voice said, much louder than anyone else. Someone tried to quiet him, but he wasn't listening. "I mean it. If I was him, I'd expect to be told. I wouldn't take no for answer."

"You've never taken no for an answer," Lily said. "And you have to understand--how do you tell an eleven-year-old child--" and her voice dropped.

Harry and Susan glanced at each other, and in silent agreement, abandoned the game and crept to the back door. Now they could hear clearly.

"Lily's right," Uncle Remus said. "We can't tell him that."

"I'll keep with my contacts in the Department of Mysteries," Amelia said, "and have them hold the prophecy until Harry comes of age."

Sirius made a disgruntled noise, but had nothing further to protest.

"Are you sure you don't want us here?" Susan's father said quietly. Harry and Susan had to press their ears right up against the door to hear. "Susan was young during the war, but she's someone Harry can connect with, perhaps--"

"Thank you," James interrupted, "Honestly, thank you. But I think... I think it should be a family conversation. Perhaps afterwards. I'll be sure Harry knows he can talk to Susan if he needs someone his own age."

The sound of chairs moving and the rustling of grass sent Harry and Susan darting back to their chess game, looking as innocent as they could. Harry chewed on his lower lip, hoping that he looked more like he was concentrating on the game and less like he was worrying over what his parents had said.

When the adults came into the room, Harry and Susan got to their feet.

"Time to go, Susan," her mother said sweetly. "Do you need to help clean up?" But Harry had already packed the chess board away, and the pieces were climbing obediently back into the box.

Susan and Harry said awkward goodbyes, with furtive glances to each their parents, and then James and Lily walked Amelia and Mr. and Mrs. Bones out.

Sirius sank into a rather plush armchair, and Remus took a seat on the edge of the couch. Harry sat on the armrest of Sirius's chair.

"Did you have a good birthday, Harry?" Remus asked with a smile.

"Yes, I did. Only--" he stopped, not sure what to say.

"Only what?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"What were you all talking about? Are you going to tell me?"

"At least wait for your mum and dad," Sirius half-laughed. If either were disappointed in him for eavesdropping, they didn't show it.

Lily and James came back into the room.

"Should I put on some tea?" Lily asked, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves.

"Please," Sirius said.

"If you have coffee," Remus cleared his throat.

"Of course."

"Rough weekend?" James asked as he sat down next to Remus.

"Not as bad as it could have been."

James nodded understandingly. "If there were any damages--"

"Thank you, James. You've always been too generous."

A compliment which, James only shrugged at. "Can't be generous if I've got too much of it," and Sirius snorted.

Harry moved from Sirius's arm rest to the seat beside his dad. "Dad, what are you going to tell me?"

James's face lost a shade of color. "Just be patient. Give your Mum and I a minute. And we're waiting on--"

There was a thunderous knock at the door, and a weary smile slipped over James's face. "waiting on Hagrid."


	4. Keeper of the Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid comes to visit; Harry finds out what he did that was so incredible to the Wizarding World.

Harry had never actually met Hagrid. He'd heard his parents talk about Hagrid, a good family friend, but he'd never actually seen the half-man-half-giant before. He was sort of intimidating at first.

He was so large that he had to duck and turn sideways to fit through the door. His hair was long and shaggy--just like his beard--but beneath it all he had deep, dark eyes that twinkled with a familiar kindness, not unlike what Harry saw when he looked at his godfather, uncle, or parents.

"Hallo, Harry," he said in a gruff, deep voice, with an accent Harry couldn't quite place. "Nice ter officially meet you--I met you as a baby, but o' course you wunnit remember tat." He extended his very large hand to the boy who shook it politely. It nearly engulfed Harry's arm.

"Have a seat," Lily said, and with a wave of her wand, pulled a chair over.

"Dun wan' ter break it--"

James said a few quick strengthening charms over the legs, and Hagrid sat down. It groaned and creaked, but withstood the weight. He gingerly lifted Lily's dainty china to his lips.

Harry was bursting with questions. When his father had said family only, he understood Uncle Remus and Sirius staying behind. They were family. But he didn't even know Hagrid. What did Hagrid have to do with all these secrets? And would they finally answer all his questions about his scar?

"Hagrid works at Hogwarts," Lily started and sat down on Harry's right. His father still sat on his left. At the least, no matter what was said tonight, Harry would feel safe between the two of them. 

"He's the groundskeeper--Keeper of the Keys. And a very close friend of Dumbledore's."

"That sounds important," was all Harry could manage as he looked between each adult in the room, wondering who was going to tell him what was going on.

James leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his jaw with one hand. "You're eleven now. That's a big year for a wizard. And you'll be off to Hogwarts in a month. There are things you should know before then."

James paused so Lily continued, "When your father and I were your age, the Wizarding World was becoming a very dangerous place--not like it is now. There were many people who believed that wizards like Uncle Remus and I were not proper wizards. And they were very violent people."

"Muggle-borns and half-bloods?" Harry said.

Remus's mouth twitched in a small smile. "And half-breeds."

Sirius's upper lip curled back and something of a snarl came out, while James gently put his hand on his friend's knee. Hagrid coughed uncomfortably and took a sip of his tea.

"There have always been people who think that pureblood witches and wizards are the only acceptable sort of wizard," James said quietly.

"But that's ridiculous. Mum's as great a witch as you! Even better sometimes."

"Top marks in 'er Charms classes," Hagrid said gruffly. "One o' the best in 'er year, she was."

Lily blushed at the compliment and continued with the story, "But some people don't agree."

"I've never met any of those wizards."

"Because we don't like those wizards," James said with a small smile.

"But you will meet people like that in school. People who don't like Muggle-born witches and wizards," Lily said.

"Then I won't be friends with them. I'll be friends with all the Muggle-borns."

"You be friends with who you like," Sirius encouraged. "The problem, though, is that there weren't just a few wizards who passed some bad laws. There was a particular man. A very powerful wizard who gathered a large following."

"His name was Lord Voldemort," Lily said quietly, and the room went silent, apart from Hagrid choking on his tea.

"But we don't use it," James said quickly. "Most wizards just call him, 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'"

"That's a lot longer than Lord Voldemort," Harry said with a puzzled expression.

Hagrid gasped and Lily suppressed a small smile.

"Names hold a very dangerous power. Or, at least, they can," Remus said quietly.

"Like yours?" Sirius joked, and James snorted.

"This man," Lily began again, "was very determined to destroy all witches and wizards who disagreed with him. Your father and I were on that list. So were Sirius and Uncle Remus, and Hagrid, and the Prewett brothers, the Bones family, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom--there were a lot of us," she finally finished. "And your father and I had to go into hiding to keep you safe. It was very dangerous. Uncle Remus wasn't able to even see you when you were born."

"There were a lot of reasons for that," James said stiffly and glanced at Sirius, who frowned back.

"A lot," Lily said firmly, and Harry's mind only spun with more questions. "And your father and I, after you were a year old, Dumbledore helped us to go very deep into hiding, so that no one would be able to find us. We used a charm called the Fidelius Charm. We chose one person to be our Secret Keeper, and only they would know where we were, and only they could tell anyone else where we were. We chose a man named Peter Pettigrew. Unfortunately, we didn't know at the time that he was in league with Lord Voldemort. And he betrayed us. He told Voldemort where to find us."

"But that night that You-Know-Who was supposed to come," James said, "Peter was there. And he stayed with us, and in the end, he faced You-Know-Who. He stood up to You-Know-Who, and because of that, he saved our lives, and yours."

"He killed Voldemort?"

"Not exactly," Remus said. "When You-Know-Who went to kill you, he couldn't. He tried, but whatever he did didn't work. And he vanished."

"He died?"

"No one knows," Sirius said quietly. "Some think he died. Some think he's still out there. The house completely collapsed, turned to rubble. Hagrid and I were the ones that found you and your parents."

"Yer mum had her arms wrapped around yeh all tight-like. She weren't about ter let yeh go for nuthin'."

"That's where your scar came from," James said quietly. "When You-Know-Who tried to kill you, he left that scar. You're The Boy Who Lived, and a lot of people think you saved the Wizarding World."

"But you have to be careful, Harry," Lily warned. "We don't know that he's dead--most of us think he's waiting until he's powerful enough to come back. And he'll come back for you when he does."

"But why me?" Harry asked with a frown. "I was just a baby."

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, all exchanged a quick series of glances. Sirius opened his mouth but James spoke first, "We don't know why, Harry. Maybe because your mother is Muggle-born. That would make you a half-blood. He tried to kill your mother, too. He tried to kill a lot of people--and did kill a lot of people. A lot of good people. Most of your friend Susan's family died fighting him."

Harry sat very still and very quiet. There was something they weren't tell him, he knew. Of course, the story they did tell him was horrible, and he completely understood why you wouldn't want to tell a child about this. It was one thing to learn about a war in school. It was very different when a man tried to kill you and your family. But he knew that couldn't be it. Because as bad as that story was, it wasn't as bad as the looks his parents got whenever he asked them about his scar. It wasn't as bad as their heartbroken faces they tried to bury in cups of tea or in books and newspapers, when they couldn't quite look at him for a few hours after.

"So that's why every wizard knows me when we go out," Harry finally said.

"And that's why we don't go out much," Lily said with a small smile.

"Is that how you got Merlin Order First Class, then?"

"Yes, well, it wasn't the first time we'd faced You-Know-Who," James said with a smile, "But I guess it's the time everyone knows about."

Harry still had so many questions. About his scar, about Susan's family, about what happened to people who were on Voldemort's side. But the clock chimed--8:17.

James yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "It's late."

"It's not," Harry protested, but when he glanced around at everyone, they looked very tired. "I didn't even open my presents," he tried.

"Tha' reminds me," Hagrid said, and dug into his coat pocket--er, one of them. Harry realized his coat had many pockets, and they seemed to hold much more than their size allowed. He pulled out a small brown key with the numbers 713 on it, accompanied by a tiny parcel wrapped in butcher paper, but that package wasn't Harry's present. He kept digging, and finally pulled out a small brown owl and a larger snowy white one. "'Ere, Harry. Was in Diagon Alley on Hogwarts business today. Thought you might like 'er. I know yer Mum and Dad haven't taken yeh to git yer school things yet, and ye'll be needin' an owl to write letters home an' all."

Hagrid leaned over in his chair and handed the large white owl to Harry. She'd been sleeping and didn't seem pleased at the disturbance. She ruffled her feathers and nipped at Harry's fingers when he reached for her, but settled on his arm after she got a good look at him.

"She's lovely," he said, slightly in awe.

"Hagrid, you didn't have to," Lily said quietly.

"I know. Jus' wanted ter do somethin' nice."

"Thank you," Harry said with a wide smile.

"I was going to get him an owl," Sirius sighed.

"I'm sure you'll find something else exotic and expensive," Lily said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I already did that," he grinned and jerked his head towards the parlor, where all the presents had been piled.

Harry jumped off the couch, snowy owl still clinging to his arm. "Can I open them now?"

"I suppose it can't wait until morning, can it?" James said with an exhausted smile.

Harry looked shocked and appalled at the thought. "It's not even late."

"Heavy hearts and heavy conversation," Remus said quietly. "But I think presents would be a much better way to finish the evening."

Lily nodded in agreement and got to her feet. "I'll put on more tea."

"I got it," James said.

"And I'll help," Sirius got to his feet and followed James to the kitchen.

"I'd better be gettin' back ter Hogwarts," Hagrid said as he pocketed the key and package. "Happy Birthday, Harry. I'll be seein' yeh at Hogwarts real soon."

Harry grinned. "Thanks. I can't wait."

Lily and Remus walked Hagrid to the door, and Harry went to wait for everyone in the parlor. He heard a quiet conversation between Lily and Uncle Remus--just the end of it, "I understand, Lily--" and her response of, "But you shouldn't. That's what we want you to understand." And they said nothing more, because they knew Harry was in earshot. They were wide smiles as they stepped into the parlor. And Sirius and James weren't far behind.

Remus's statement had been right. Presents were a much better end to the evening. The weariness slowly wore away from the grown-ups faces as Harry went through each of his presents, and Lily kept a list of who got him what, so that thank you letters could be sent later. Even as Harry fell asleep, hand clutched around the Nimbus 2000 that Sirius had bought him, the parents conversations and quiet laughter continued late into the evening.


	5. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius take Harry shopping for his school supplies.

Harry loved going to Diagon Alley. Lily and James didn't take him often. He had a few memories as a toddler, with people constantly stopping the three of them and commenting on his scar: a man in a top hat, or a woman in a long violet cloak. Looking back, he supposed Lily's bright red hair, James's height, and a child with a prominent scar on his face made for a rather noticeable group, especially right after the war.

Today, though they were a larger group, Harry thought they might be able to move about the crowded streets of Diagon Alley easier than in the past. Lily placed a standard witch's hat with a wide brim over her long red hair. James put on a matching hat, then linked his arm in hers as they stepped into the fireplace. Sirius tugged a set of wizard robes over his usual Muggle-day-wear with a wrinkled face, but when he caught Harry watching, smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and stepped into the green flames of the Floo Network. Harry went next, combing his dark hair over his scar. He wanted today to be about getting ready for Hogwarts, and as thrilling as all the news about his scar was, today he wanted to be like any other wizarding student getting ready for school. And, lastly, Uncle Remus came through, and unconsciously dusted off his long, ash-blond hair, though there was no soot in it to begin with.

"Well, what do we need first?" Lily asked as she pulled out Harry's school supply list.

"A stop at Gringotts, I think," James said as he pulled a handful of Knuts and Sickles from his cloak pocket. "We spent most of what we had on the party yesterday."

"Gringotts it is. Hang on to me, Harry."

The troop of four wizards and one soon-to-be-wizard walked down the tightly crowded alley. Harry held Lily's hand as they walked, and with his other hand, clutched at the back of James's cloak as the wizard led the way to the one and only wizarding bank at the end of the street.

Along the way, Harry's head swiveled from left to right. He caught sight of the Nimbus 2000 Sirius had just bought him. There was the Owl Emporium he assumed his white owl from Hagrid had come from. She still needed a name. He saw a vendor selling dragon liver, and wondered if she'd take to a dragon name. He thought about writing a letter to Ron's brother in Romania. And, before he had quite decided how he would go about that letter--"Hello. Can you name my owl after one of your dragons? Thanks."--they had reached the end of the street, and the bank towered far above them.

"What's this?" Sirius asked quietly, as they realized most of the crowd in the alley was not actually made of shoppers, but people packed tightly around Gringotts.

The group carefully pushed their way to the front, until there were ten feet of empty space between them and the bank, but that space was guarded by goblins, holding the crowds at bay.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. 

But neither his parents or his uncle or his godfather answered. They didn't know. It was a witch on his left that said, "There was a break in last night, there was! Never anyone dared steal from goblins before and get away with it, but this one did!"

"Nothing was stolen!" a goblin shouted at the witch. "Now clear out!" Despite his stature, Harry found the goblin very intimidating. He had a gruff voice and a rather mean face. Harry found most goblins had mean faces. He assumed it was because they spent all their time counting money. That would give anyone wrinkles.

Still, none of the crowd moved, and continued to shout questions at the goblins, who only repeated, "Nothing's been stolen."

"We're here to make a withdrawal," Lily said, as loudly as she could.

The goblin looked at her, upper lip curled back, like he didn't quite believe her. "Name?"

"Lily Potter," she answered, in a much quieter voice.

The goblin then did a double-take, surveyed the wizards in front of him, then gave a curt nod. "Account holders only."

James and Lily were let through the barricade, and they pulled Harry with them.

"I'm family," Sirius protested, but the goblin only sneered at him, and led Lily, James, and Harry into the bank.

"Really ought to put Lupin on the account, too," James said quietly as they stepped into the bank--eerily silent compared to the noise outside.

"Don't think he'd let you," Lily whispered back.

James made a noise that sounded like he agreed, but his face said he wasn't too happy about it.

Harry had not been inside the bank since he was very small. And though he had grown quite a bit since then, it was still as big as he remembered--large columns, high ceilings, and the only sound was the faint jingle of coins changing hands, and hushed whispers of numbers exchanged.

On the left there was a sign for Muggle-to-Wizard exchanges. There was another sign displaying the current exchange rate in England. Further back were international exchange rates, and there was a witch and a goblin arguing about Brazilian wizard gold and Brazilian Muggle currency.

But the most captivating (and unnerving) display was the large doors at the back, engraved with a silver script that Harry remembered glistening in the bright light--and today they looked like they burned angrily:

 _"Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there."

And then the burning poem split into two as the doors opened for the Potters.

"Griphook!" their goblin guide said sharply, and another goblin grumpily climbed down from his post.

Griphook took Harry, James, and Lily down into a dark cave. The large doors thundered shut behind them. For a moment they were plunged into darkness, then torches lit up the immense caverns. They were wide and he could see at least six different tunnels. And then about fifteen feet away, the ground disappeared and it was impossible to see just how far down the caverns and tunnels went. Harry couldn't imagine how a thief could even get in here, let alone find his way around.

There was a metal track that Harry could see reflecting torch light throughout the caverns. Griphook whistled and a cart came out of the darkness, along the track, and stopped when it reached them. James, Lily, and Harry climbed in, and the cart hurtled through the maze of the caverns.

James sat back, unfazed by the speed. Lily kept one hand tight on the railing and the other tight on Harry, who was far more interested in how many twists and turns there were on the track to be worried about how fast they were going.

"What's the difference between stalactite and stalagmite?" Harry asked above the noise of the rattling car.

James shrugged his shoulders. "One's up and one's down, isn't it?"

"Stalactite hangs tight to the ceiling," Lily said in a tight voice of her own. "Now, Harry, will you please sit down?"

The cart stopped in front of one of several doors along the passage wall. Lily stepped out first and adjusted her hat. James ran his hand back through his hair so the ends stuck up and looked rather windblown, and Harry excitedly ran to the door.

Griphook unlocked it, and a green smoke hissed as the metal frame sprung an invisible seam and a door slowly swung outwards. When the green smoke cleared, mounds of gold and silver were visible as well as several of the more valuable family heirlooms along the back wall. Old family and old money went hand-in-hand.

While Lily and James debated how much they would need for the next few months, how much they ought to give to Remus, and hadn't Sirius offhandedly mentioned something about nearly being out of his inheritance, Harry walked along the back wall and looked at all the old Potter family heirlooms.

There was a trunk with Old English engraved into it that Harry couldn't read. He found a gold necklace with a large ruby in the center that hissed at him when he tried to touch it. There was a matching bracelet he didn't dare approach. He saw a shimmery bundle of fabric and he was just debating on whether or not he should try to touch that--he was very curious about what it felt like--when James called him back.

"Harry, let's go. Careful or you'll get lost." He had a wide grin on his face as he beckoned Harry back to the door, but Harry noticed his eyes flick back to the shimmering bundle before they left the vault.

The cart was just as fast going up as it was going down, and soon, Harry, Lily, and James were stepping back out into the sunlight outside Gringotts. The large crowd was still there clamoring for questions, and then, as Lily and James pulled Harry back into the crowd, the noise petered out into whispers.

Lily pulled the brim of her hat down, pulled Harry close, and he heard a wizard whisper, "Was that the Potters?" before James pulled them into the nearest shop.

The nearest shop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Oh, Harry, I meant to bring your dress robes to get them extended. I'm sorry," Lily sighed.

"Definitely alright," Harry said, quite pleased that he was not going to be putting on his dress robes again. Yesterday had been plenty.

Madam Malkin came out of the back of the shop--a short, round little witch dressed in lavender robes.

"Hogwarts robes? Been seeing you little ones come in and out all month. Come on, to the back, I'll get you fitted right away."

Lily and Harry started towards the back of the shop, but James hesitated.

"I'm going to find Remus and Sirius if that's alright."

"Today's for Harry," she said tersely.

"And they want to be a part of it. We'll meet you right back here. Or wherever you're going next."

Lily pursed her lips, clearly displeased, but nodded once and waved James off.

He hesitated again, as if he might change his mind, but he stepped out the door after all, and Lily helped Harry step onto the fitting stool. Madam Malkin pulled a long black robe over his head. The edges of it fell around the stool to the floor.

"Well, if he grows up to be anything like his father, he'll need a lot of hem, won't he?" Madam Malkin said as she knelt down to pin the hem on Harry's robe. "Then again, you young ones get into so much trouble, I expect you'll wear through your robes before the year's out. Or are you a good, quiet boy, hm?" she asked with a small smile.

"Definitely a troublemaker," Harry grinned and adjusted his glasses.

Lily gently flattened the back of his hair. "You're impatient and curious, but you are not a troublemaker. You're very well-behaved. More than Fred and George anyway."

Harry fixed his hair back to how he liked it--bangs shoved to one side and a bit of a ruffle in the back so he didn't look like his mother had gotten him dressed. And when Madam Malkin looked up she raised her eyebrows.

"Didn't realize I was fitting Mr. Potter. Well, it's very good to see you, all grown-up and off to Hogwarts."

"Thank you. We're very proud," Lily smiled, and Harry, suddenly self-conscious, pulled his bangs back down over his scar and mumbled a quiet, "Thank you," to Madam Malkin.

They left with two winter cloaks, a hat, protective gloves, and five new black robes for Harry, all with all the proper enchantments to automatically change lining colors the moment he was sorted.

"Mum, what if I'm in Hufflepuff?" he asked as she led him towards Flourish and Blotts.

"Then your robes will be yellow."

"I mean--but what about Slytherin?"

"Then they'll be green."

"That's not what I mean, Mum. I mean, what if--"

"Harry, wherever you end up, your father and I will be proud of you. I had friends in all sorts of houses."

"But Dad didn't. All of Dad's friends were in Gryffindor--Uncle Remus, and Sirius, and--"

"Your father was an arrogant, ignorant, and pompous prat when he was in school. Don't be like him."

"But Mum!"

But she seemed rather irritated, and he noticed her looking around for James with thinly masked irritation before stepping inside Flourish and Blotts.

Books were stacked to the ceiling from end-to-end of the store. In the middle were pyramids and towers of all kinds of books.

"Don't they believe in bookshelves?" Harry asked as he wandered towards the Hexes and Jinxes section.

Lily grabbed his collar and tugged him back towards the school supplies.

The bookstore manager was stacking "Standard Book of Spells, Year 7," in a corner when he saw Lily.

"Here for Marauding with Monsters?" he asked with a smile.

Lily's frown deepened and her voice was sharp. "No."

He looked surprised by her anger, and then caught sight of Harry. "Ah! School books. Of course, of course. Let me guess... year three?"

"Oh, yes, definitely," Harry grinned.

"No." Lily did not seem very amused. "Year one, please."

"Yes, yes, of course." The manager seemed eager to smooth over Lily's displeasure, not quite sure if he was the cause of it or not. He hurriedly gathered Harry's books together, put them into a neat stack--much neater than any stack in the store--and politely asked, "This is all, correct?"

Lily looked the stack over, checked it against the list, and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

The manager quickly took the galleons from her and handed back a handful of Sickles and Knuts, and wished them both a pleasant day. Lily looked almost determined to defy him.

When they stepped out of the shop, Lily went over Harry's school supply list again. "Looks like we still need your potions supplies, a telescope, and your wand." She glanced around the street and briefly went up on her toes. "I suppose we could check in at the Leaky Cauldron and see if your father stopped off for a drink with his friends."

"Can I get a butterbeer?"

"No," she said very sharply, then glanced down at Harry and saw his wide smile. She sighed, smiled, and tugged on his hand. "Come on. Let's get your Potions supplies."

Lily and Harry bought all the basic requirements for standard Potions. She even checked his school book to make sure he had enough of the necessary ingredients before going to get his cauldron.

In the window of the shop were silver and gold cauldrons, and just when Harry opened his mouth to ask, Lily already was answering his question.

"No, you cannot have a solid gold cauldron," she scolded. "It's Potions, not Alchemy."

They stepped into the shop and were surprised to find James and Sirius at the shopkeeper's counter, with the rest of Harry's necessary school supplies, arguing over who was going to pay for it.

"I couldn't get him an owl. Let me get this," Sirius was saying.

"No," James was protesting. "You got him a racing broom. That's more than enough."

"That was a birthday gift. This is a Hogwarts send off."

"These are his school supplies and I'm his father."

Remus saw Lily and Harry and waved with a weary smile. "They've been at this for about fifteen minutes," he said to them quietly.

The poor shopkeeper looked driven out of his mind by the argument and went to help Lily. She smiled at him sympathetically.

"Sorry, that's my husband, unfortunately. Don't worry about it. I'll cover it now and deal with them later."

The shopkeeper looked at the the men nervously, then at Lily, and nodded.

She paid for the school supplies, then tugged a bewildered James and an offended Sirius out of the shop.

"Then let me get his wand," Sirius pleaded.

"No," Lily said firmly. "That's our gift to him."

Sirius looked ready to keep arguing, but Remus put a hand on Sirius's arm, and Sirius shut his mouth. He still looked rather sullen as the five of them stepped into Ollivander's.

A small, gentle bell sounded as the door closed, and a thin, wizened old man came to the front of the shop. "Ah, what a crowd! I daresay I've seen you all before. Let me remember... Sirius Black--hawthorn and very unyielding, no?" he smiled. "And Remus Lupin--a ten-and-a-quarter pliable cypress, excellent for protective spells. Miss Lily Evans--"

"Mrs. Lily Potter," James corrected with a smile, and wrapped his hand around hers.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander smiled, "of course. Swishy willow, excellent charm casting. And for Mr. James Potter, a dragon heartstring core, yes? Pliable mahogany. Then you must be Harry Potter, hm?" Ollivander leaned in very close--Harry found it a little unsettling--and swept aside Harry's bangs to look at the scar. He touched it gently. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...." His voice trailed off, and Harry shifted uncomfortably under his close, silvery gaze. "Well now," he finally said as he stepped away, "let me see." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long measuring tape. "Which arm is your wand arm?"

Harry glanced back at his parents, who both gave him encouraging smiles. He swallowed hard, and held out his right arm.

Ollivander measured Harry all over--shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, around his head, even between his nostrils. Ollivander went on about wand cores while the measuring tape worked on its own, and he went through boxes. Harry was distracted by the silver swishing tape, and only caught the end--"dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

And a wand was pressed into Harry's hand. He waved it, like he'd seen his mother do in morning to water the herbs, but Mr. Ollivander took it back halfway through the swish and handed him another wand--"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy."

Harry flicked this one, the way he'd seen his father summon the brooms from the shed, but Ollivander snatched it away again.

He tried wands in all woods, in all cores, in all lengths. Harry wasn't sure what it was supposed to feel or look like, and as Ollivander kept snatching wands before he could even finish a wave, he began to be more and more disheartened. He glanced back at his mother and mouthed, "I'm going to be in Hufflepuff," and she stifled a giggle.

At the least, Ollivander seemed to be having fun. The wispy, quiet, and distant old man turned into a limber and excited wandmaker as he bounced between shelves and boxes, putting wands in and out of Harry's hands with ease and giddy smiles.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere--I wonder now--yes, why not--unusual combination--holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Oh, Harry thought suddenly as his fingers curled around the wand. This is what it was supposed to feel like. It felt warm in his hand, there was a faint tingling sensation as he raised the wand above his head and brought it down with a flourish. Red and gold sparks burst from the end--not in a single burst, but in a steady flow, bathing the whole room in dancing red and gold lights.

Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus all laughed and applauded. Even Ollivander's giddy grin widened as he cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

Mr. Ollivander carefully wrapped Harry's new wand back in his box and tied a red and gold ribbon around it, muttering continuously about the curiosity of it all.

Harry and James, at the same time, asked, "What's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander seemed once again the distant and wizened old man as he fixed his reflective gaze on Harry. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather--just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother--why, its brother gave you that scar."

An eerie silence settled over the group, and Harry felt James put a protective hand on his shoulder, and Sirius's tightened on his other.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr, Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things--terrible yes, but great."

There was a bad taste in Harry's mouth as Lily handed the galleons over for his wand, and he took the box from Mr. Ollivander. He held the box gingerly, as if it might spontaneously combust. They walked out in silence and no one said anything until James finally asked, "Well, Harry, it's your day. Do you want dinner at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry thought that he very much did not want to be magical for a moment, and said, "Can we go to that one place Sirius took me to for my birthday last year?"

James and Sirius apparated the cloaks, hats, and school supplies home before they headed to the Muggle restaurant.

The quiet troop sat down in the quaint diner on a corner in downtown London, and finally, the first words apart from ordering his meal that Harry said were, "How many people did Voldemort kill?"

James cleared his throat. "That's not a good question--"

"How many?" he repeated, and was met with a moment of silence.

"No one really knows," Lily finally said. "A lot of witches and wizards and Muggles. And there were a lot of his followers that did what he wanted and did what they wanted. Why do you want to know?"

Harry sighed, not quite sure what his answer should be. "Everyone thinks I'm going to be a great wizard. They're all so excited for me to go to Hogwarts. But I don't even know what really happened. You haven't told me anything."

"We told you as much as we know," James said quietly. Sirius snorted, then took a hasty sip of his water when Lily glared at him.

Remus was the one who gently put his hand over Harry and said, "What they think of you isn't important. You don't need to be what everyone expects. Hogwarts will be fun. You'll make friends, you'll learn all about magic, and you'll decide who you want to be. You just do your best, and we'll all be proud of you, no matter what."

Those weren't the words Harry wanted to hear, but they were still comforting. More comforting than anything he'd heard all day. But Uncle Remus was like that. He had a talent for seeing what Harry needed when others could only see what he wanted.

"You'd make a great teacher, you know," Lily said quietly as the waitress set their food down.

Remus only shook his head.

The mood picked up considerably after that. Harry slightly regretted his choice because he still had a craving for butterbeer, but changed his mind again when Sirius ordered him an enormous triple-banana-split-with-all-the-toppings-and-more, that was so large even all five of them found they could barely finish it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer; I completely guessed on Sirius's wand. There are no given specifications for it anywhere, so I read all the HP wandlore there is and made an educated guess. If Rowling ever reveals Sirius's wand specifications, I'll go back and edit. Remus and Lily's are 100% canon! And I pegged James as a dragon heartstring sort of person. Idk, the passion suited him. The rest of his wand is canon, though.


	6. The Train Ride from Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes the train to Hogwarts and makes some new friends (as well as becoming better friends with old friends).

The morning of September 1, 1991 was a very loud and chaotic morning for the Potter family. Harry had hardly slept. He kept packing and repacking his trunk. His parents had written out a packing list for him, but he kept adding to it.

At seven in the morning he heard his mother get up and start cooking breakfast. He leapt down the stairs two at a time to help. It was a big breakfast--everyone was coming to send him off.

At eight, James came stumbling into the kitchen--dressed, but hardly awake.

At eight-thirty, Sirius and Uncle Remus arrived. Lily and Harry put breakfast on the table and everyone ate quickly.

At nine-thirty, James and Sirius tried to take Harry's trunk downstairs.

"It wasn't this heavy last night," James grunted, and set it back down. He opened it up with a frown. "Harry, you can't take all these books."

"But what if I want to read something besides my school books?" Harry shouted from downstairs.

"There's a library."

James and Sirius carefully rooted through what was essential and nonessential.

"Harry, you can't take your broom," James said with a sigh.

"I don't have use it," Harry said. "I just want it with me."

"No."

And Lily took it and held onto it, so it could not get repacked behind anyone's back.

Sirius and James tried again. Halfway down, Sirius stepped on the center of the fourth stair. The loud noise that sounded throughout the house startled him so much that he dropped the trunk on his foot, and with a yell that was drowned by the faulty alarm system, tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. James fell too, on top of the trunk, which slid its way down the last few stairs.

When the buzzer had died down, and the portraits were calm again, James and Sirius laughed.

"You of all people," James wheezed breathlessly.

"I know, I know. I forgot about that one."

Sirius sat down for a minute and cast a temporary cooling charm on his foot while Remus and James put the trunk and Harry's owl beside the door.

Lily took her list and went through Harry's trunk again.

"Mum, I've got it all--"

"I know, I know. I just want to be sure."

Sirius called Harry into the parlor while Remus and James cleaned up breakfast.

"What is it?" Harry asked as he sat down on the couch.

"Wanted to give you this," and he pressed a galleon into Harry's hand. "There's a candy trolley on the Hogwarts Express, and I wanted to be sure you get enough, in case your Mum gets stingy."

"Thanks!" Harry said with a wide grin, then lowered his voice, "And you can't help me sneak my broom in?"

Sirius snorted. "After that garden snake you set on me two weeks ago? No. Sorry, mate. Next year."

Harry sighed dramatically, but was still grinning as he went to make sure his mother properly repacked his trunk.

"And you fed Hedwig?" she asked.

He'd decided to name his owl Hedwig, after a woman in his book A History of Magic. She'd taken to it well enough.

"Yes, I did Mum. Can we leave now?"

"I'm ready. Is your father?"

Harry went to the kitchen where James was putting the last of the dishes away and Remus was wiping down the dining table.

"Remus, you don't have to," James was protesting.

"I know, I know," Remus shrugged. "Might as well." He tossed the dusting rag into a bin and washed his hands. "Ready to go Harry?"

"Yes, can we, please?"

"Just going to grab my cloak," James said and ducked back into his and Lily's room.

Remus glanced into the hall and then knelt next to Harry so they were at eye-level. He pressed twelve sickles into Harry's hand. "Just in case you want a few more chocolate frogs on the train, alright?"

"It's alright," Harry protested, but Remus refused.

"I did some Horklump gardening the other day. Consider it a birthday present."

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, and tucked the sickles into his pocket. Somehow, they felt more valuable than the galleons Sirius had given him.

"Everyone ready?" Lily's voice shouted from the doorway.

Remus and Harry joined her, and Sirius limped after them. James was pulling on his cloak as he came through the door.

It was ten-fifteen.

"Harry, you have your ticket?" Lily asked, and Harry pulled it out of his cloak pocket for her to see.

"Okay. Harry, you're with me. James, you have the trunk. Remus, here's Hedwig. And Sirius, you're on your own."

"Don't know how I'll manage," he said with a grin, and with a loud crack, Disapparated.

There were three more cracks in quick succession, and they all reappeared in a side alley in London.

"Quickly," and Lily ushered them all down the street--Remus and James sharing the trunk--to the train station. At least there, they were able to get a trolley for Harry's things.

By ten-forty-five they were at platform nine.

"Through the barrier," James said with a grin. "Ready?"

"Don't be scared and don't stop," Remus said quietly. "That's the trick."

"Okay," Harry said firmly, and pushed his trolley through the barrier between the platforms.

He emerged on an entirely different platform, with a scarlet engine emblazoned with the words, "Hogwarts Express." James came right behind him, then Remus, then Lily, then Sirius.

The platform was already crowded. He saw Neville with his grandmother, anxiously hunting for his toad. He saw Fred and George Weasley with a boy he didn't recognize--dark skin and dreadlocks, small wooden box in his hands.

"Let us see," George was begging.

"Come on, Lee, open it," Fred pleaded.

Sirius pulled his attention away before he could see what was inside the box. "Well, where to?" he asked.

Harry stood up on tiptoe and noticed the crowd was thinner at the end of the train. So that was where he led his family, until he found an empty compartment.

"It's almost where we sat, isn't it?" Sirius asked with a grin as he stowed Harry's trunk under the seat.

James's head brushed the door of the compartment as they helped Harry get his things in and stowed away. "Sure you want to be back here by yourself?"

"Yes," Harry answered readily.

"You don't want to be with Ron or Neville or Susan?" Lily frowned.

"I'll find them later."

"Well... alright." Lily pulled him close and kissed his forehead, right on top of his scar. "We love you, and we're very proud."

"And you'll have to write every day," James grinned.

"Every day?" Harry frowned. "Then you won't even have time to miss me."

"Once a week, please," Lily smiled, and tried to smooth his hair down. It wouldn't stay flat.

"Send Remus all your History essays," Sirius said. "It's what we did."

"Write your own essays," Remus scolded, but with a smile.

The whistle blew--time for the train to go.

Remus and Sirius each hugged Harry goodbye, then James took his turn to say goodbye. He knelt down beside Harry and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You're going to have so much fun. And we're all very proud." When they parted he said, "And I am sorry about your broom. I'm sure Sirius will help me keep it limber while you're gone."

"Don't break it."

"No, of course not," James smiled. "And say hello to McGonagall from me. I'm sure she'll roll her eyes, or something."

The train whistle sounded again.

"James, let's go," Sirius shouted.

"I know, I know! I'm coming," James shouted back. He stood up and gave Harry a galleon. "From your mother and I, for the candy trolley." And he gave him a second one. "And that one's from me," and he winked. He pulled Harry into a hug again, then stepped out of the compartment.

Harry went straight to the window and waved to his family on the platform. Another whistle blew again, there was a rush of steam as the brakes released, and slowly the engine began to pull away from the platform. Harry waved and his family waved back, all the way until they were too small to see among the rest of the crowd, and then Harry sat back down in the seat and let out a deep breath.

He looked over at Hedwig and poked his finger into the cage. She nipped at it playfully.

The door opened, and Ron Weasley stood there, an apprehensive look on his face. "Can I join you?"

"Oh, sure," Harry said, and moved Hedwig's cage so Ron could sit. "Where are Fred and George?"

"Apparently Lee's got a tarantula."

"You didn't want to see?"

Ron made a face. "No thanks. What're you doing all back here by yourself?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Wanted some quiet I guess."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I can--"

"No, it's alright. I don't mind. Really."

Ron sat back down and cleared his throat awkwardly. Harry didn't exactly except Ron to be much for conversation on a good day, and now he'd gone and ruined it all together by saying he wanted to be alone.

"Uh, Ron," Harry started awkwardly, "do you know why our parents are friends?"

Ron shrugged. "The war, wasn't it? My uncles fought You-Know-Who with your parents. Until you beat him, that is. Oh--can I talk about this? Mum says not to bring it up around your family. She says things were real bad when we were born, and that--"

"It's alright," Harry shrugged. "Mum and Dad don't talk about it. But, I don't know.... What do you know about it?"

"It?"

"Yeah. The war. Voldemort. All of it."

"You're not supposed to say his name," Ron whispered.

"Oh. Sorry." But he wasn't really. His mother was comfortable saying it, so why shouldn't he?

"Well, Mum and Dad don't talk about it much. But once Mum said Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon took down five Death Eaters and Uncle Fabian only lost an arm. He does spells left-handed now. Kinda off. But I didn't really know him before. I mean, I was only a baby. Well, so were you. Sorry, mate, I don't really know much else. You could ask Percy, when he's not too busy polishing his prefect badge. He would've been five, though. Do you want me to write to Charlie? Or Bill?"

Harry shrugged. "They'd probably just say to ask my parents."

"What do your parents say?"

"Nothing interesting," Harry shrugged and scratched at his scar.

Ron picked at the fuzz on his sweater while Harry watched the houses grow more sparse as the train began traveling through the countryside. Around noon the candy trolley came by. Ron declined, claiming he was fine with his sandwich. Harry spent his three galleons and twelve sickles on as much candy as he could for him and Ron to share.

They ate pumpkin pasties, traded Chocolate Frog cards, and dared each other to try suspicious Every Flavor Beans until the quiet countryside turned into wild woods and raging rivers.

Around sunset, there was a knock at their compartment door. Neville came in, looking very sullen as usual. "Oh. Hello, Harry. Ron. Um, you haven't seen a toad, have you?"

"Sorry, no," Harry said, and Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me."

"He'll turn up," Harry said encouragingly.

"Yes," Neville answered miserably. "Well, if you see him...." He moaned as he walked away.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

Harry held his forefinger out to the dark-coated weasel for it to sniff, but it snapped at his finger instead.

"He's not really nice to anyone. He was Percy's first, and he hated Percy, too. But Percy got an owl this year, since he's a prefect and all. So I got him." 

"He's pretty dark for a weasel."

"I guess so. I tried to turn him yellow but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look..."

Ron pulled his wand out, an old battered thing with the unicorn hair poking out at the top. He’d just opened his mouth to do the spell when the door opened again. Neville was back, but with a girl neither Harry nor Ron recognized, already in her Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” Harry had never met someone with hair messier than him before. He wondered if her mother tried combing it flat as often as his did.

“We already told Neville no,” Ron said with a frown. Clearly he didn’t like the bossy tone.

But the girl already didn’t seem to care. She was much more interested in the wand. “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see then.” She even sat down in the compartment.

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance and a shrug, and Ron cleared his throat.

_“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow  
Turn this stupid weasel yellow.”_

The only thing that happened was Scabbers biting the back of Ron’s hand.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard—I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

Harry was a bit dizzied by it all and looked to Ron or Neville for help. Neville looked just as bewildered but Ron managed to mumble, “I’m Ron Weasley.”

He looked back at the girl and, thinking a Muggle-born witch wouldn’t know anything about the wizarding war, said, “Harry Potter,” in the most unassuming voice he could manage.

“Are you really?” she said. “I know all about you, of course—got a few extra books, for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

He didn’t like that a witch raised with Muggles knew more about him than he did, but he was more curious than anything else. “Blimey, am I really? Mind if I borrow those?”

“Goodness, you didn’t know? I’d have found out everything I could if it was me.” As if he wasn’t trying. But she changed the subject before he could ask her any more questions about it.

“Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad…. Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

And she left, dragging Neville with her.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron said grumpily, and threw his wand into his trunk. “Stupid spell—George gave it to me. Bet he knew it was a dud.”

“Is everyone in your family in Gryffindor?”

Ron nodded gloomily. “Mum, Dad, my uncles—all my brothers. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

Harry did not like to think about what would happen if he had to write a letter to his father saying he’d been sorted into Slytherin either. He didn’t think his mother would mind much, and he imagined his father would cool down after she talked to him—he always did—but Sirius wouldn’t be very happy either. Harry wanted very much to be in Gryffindor like his family, too.

“You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit lighter,” Harry tried in an effort to get him and Ron talking about something other than houses. But Ron still looked morose, so he tried again. “How are Bill and Charlie?”

“They’re alright. Charlie’s still in Romania. Bill just went off to Africa. Always top secret with him, though. Gringotts doesn’t like people other than goblins knowing what they’re doing. Bill’s pretty lucky, Mum says. Did you hear about Gringotts? The robbery?”

Harry nodded. “I was there the day after. They said nothing’d been taken.”

“Yeah. Real weird. They didn’t even catch the bloke that did it. Dad says it must’ve been a powerful dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case it’s You-Know-Who.”

“So you don’t think Vol—er, You-Know-Who is dead either?”

Ron shrugged. “Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon don’t, but they’ve always been a little nutty. Good friends with Moody, y’know?”

Harry smiled. He did know. Paranoid was a word invented to describe Alastor Moody.

“Been keeping up with Quidditch?”

Harry nodded vigorously. “Sirius got me a Nimbus 2000 for my birthday.”

“A Nimbus 2000? Really? That’s incredible. Can I see it?”

“First years can’t bring brooms,” Harry sighed. “I tried to convince dad to let me anyway, but I think Mum talked him down. She always does that.”

“Maybe we can borrow Fred and George’s. They’ll probably make us do something stupid in exchange, but it might be worth it. Percy said there’ll be proper flying lessons. Might not be the end of the world.”

Suddenly, the boys were exchanging flying tips and swapping Quidditch game stories. It was the most conversation Ron and Harry had ever had. Harry thought things were a lot easier without Neville or Ernie Macmillan around like at family parties.

Their carriage door slid open and three boys Harry didn’t recognize walked in. They were all looking curiously at Harry, also wearing their robes and even their hats. Harry suddenly wished there was an inconspicuous way for him to cover his scar.

“Is it true?” the pale boy in the middle said. “You really are Harry Potter?”

“Yes,” he said, and he wished he didn’t sound like Neville’s toad had lodged itself in his throat. The other two boys looked very mean, like bodyguards on either side of the boy in the middle.

“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Ron snickered quietly and Harry mumbled, “The hat might’ve given it away,” but Draco didn’t catch it. He was too busy glaring down Ron.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” And he turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

So that was what his dad had meant by, “We aren’t friends with those sorts of wizards.” Even though Sirius had encouraged him to be friends with who he liked, he decided he would much rather be friends with Ron, who could be a little quiet and self-deprecating at times, than with this snobby boy, who walked around with a pair of body guards like some sort of self-appointed prince.

So Harry ignored Draco’s extended hand and said, “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”

There was a faint pink in Draco Malfoy’s pale cheeks and his voice got very cold. “I’d be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll end up considered a blood-traitor, especially if you hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys.”

Harry and Ron were both on their feet.

“Say that again,” Ron said, completely red with anger.

“My mother is Muggle-born,” Harry nearly shouted. “You better learn some manners yourself before you start throwing around words like ‘blood-traitor.’”

“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered.

“Unless you get out now,” Harry said, and a quick glance at Crabbe and Goyle told him he was doing something far more reckless than Sirius had ever done.

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”

Goyle tried to grab the last of the Chocolate Frogs, and Ron tried to dive at him, but before Ron got more than a step towards him, Goyle was screaming.

Scabbers was hanging from Goyle’s knuckle, long slinky body swinging in the air as Goyle tried to shake him off. But the weasel had more grip than that, and even as all three boys disappeared out of the compartment, Goyle trailing behind, still screaming, it refused to let go. Ron and Harry ran after them, nearly bumping into Hermione Granger in the hallway.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“They’re stealing my weasel,” Ron said and pointed after Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes and said, “ _Spiculus_ ,” and there was a high-pitched squeak and Scabbers dropped to the floor. Ron quickly scooped him up and all four of them, Hermione and Scabbers included, went back to the compartment.

“I’ve heard all the Malfoys are that mean,” Ron said sourly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after the war ended. Said they’d been bewitched. Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon don’t believe it, and dad doesn’t either. Says the Malfoys never needed an excuse to go to the dark side.” And then Ron looked over at Hermione, as if he hadn’t realized she was still with them. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on. I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there. You’d better be careful about picking fights. You’ll be in trouble before we even get there.”

“We didn’t pick that fight,” Ron scowled. “Would you leave then, if we’ve got to change?”

She sniffed. “Well, I only came in to make sure you were all behaving yourselves. It’s rather childish to chase people down the corridors. And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know?”

Ron glared at her until the door closed. Harry looked away to the darkening skies. The train really did seem to be slowing down.

So he tucked his jacket into his trunk and pulled his robes on. They barely brushed the edge of the floor, perfectly hemmed. He noticed Ron’s were a bit short and you could see his trainers underneath.

The conductor’s voice echoed through the train, “We’ll be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

Harry and Ron grabbed as many sweets as they could fit in their pockets. Harry let Hedwig nip gently at his finger and Ron left Scabbers snoozing on the seat. Though he did leave him a Chocolate Frog as a reward for his courage in battle.

They joined the crowd of students in the corridor as the train slowed to a stop. People pushed their way out of the train and onto a small, dark platform. Harry pulled his robes tighter, wishing he’d left his jacket on underneath. Then he saw a lamp high above everyone’s heads, and Hagrid’s voice calling over the crowd.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”

Harry smiled up at him and followed close behind. Not that Hagrid was very easy to lose.

“C’mon, follow me—any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

The path was very steep and very narrow. A couple times, Harry had to grab Ron’s shoulder so he wouldn’t slip. Nobody said anything. The only sound besides a few stumbles was Neville, still sniffling over his missing toad.

“Ye’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

And as they came around the corner, everyone let out a soft ooh. They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, and across the water was a castle, windows lit with flickering candle light, like orange stars on the horizon.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid shouted, pointing to the small wooden boats on the shore of the lake. Harry looked around to see if he knew anyone nearby—he hadn’t seen Susan or Ernie at all today—and ended up in a boat with Ron, Neville, and Hermione.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid called from his own boat. “Right then—Forward!”

And all the boats moved at once, gliding across the water as smoothly as Harry’s Nimbus 2000 flew on a clear summer morning. The first years were all still quiet, gazing at the castle.

“Heads down!” Hagrid said as they passed under the cliffs, and the boats carried them through the ivy hiding the entrance into the castle through the rocks. The climbed out into the underground harbor onto all the rocks and pebbles.

“Oi, you there, is this yer toad?” asked Hagrid, who was helping all the first years out of the boats.

“Trevor!” Neville said with a shout of relief, and tucked the toad into his pocket.

The first years followed Hagrid up the stairs until they came out in front of the castles large doors. The grass was damp as the crowd of children moved to sturdy oak front door, Hagrid and his lantern still leading the way.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Hogwarts and gets sorted.

The large doors to the castle swung inwards. A tall witch with a green cloak and a stern face in the entrance. Harry recognized her immediately as Minerva McGonagall, but he was used to seeing a kind, motherly sort of affection on her face. Right now she reminded him of Lily, that time he’d nearly lit the cat on fire.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She led the first years through the vast entrance hall, over the stone walkways, to the top of a marble staircase. There was a doorway across from the top of the steps, and from it came the sounds of hundreds of voices—the rest of the students, Harry assumed. But instead of taking them through those doors, she led them to a small side-chamber. All forty of the students packed very tightly together in the small room.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Harry pulled his bangs down over his scar and adjusted his glasses. He watched Ron rub at his nose and Neville adjust his cloak.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

Harry thought now was not a very good time to pass along his father’s greeting. And anyway, he was a little nervous about the Sorting. Though he knew Fred and George were teasing, he still felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what it could be.

“I—I know George was joking about the dragon,” Ron said, with a quiver in his voice, “but Fred said something about wrestling a troll. Y’don’t think it’ll be that, do you?”

Harry honestly had no idea. He just hoped that ,whatever it was, he would pass. His father wasn’t one to talk much about school being difficult. It sounded like he and Sirius had blown off most of the school side of things. It was Uncle Remus and Lily who had always encouraged him to work hard, but what if he didn’t work hard enough? What if hard enough wasn’t enough? He’d done fine in his lessons at home with Uncle Remus, but that was at home. School was something very different.

He was trying to listen to the spells Hermione was reciting very quietly to herself, but got distracted by screams from the back of the group. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the source.

Several silver ghosts glided into the small room and passed through the students, so absorbed in the conversation that they didn’t notice the wave of shivers passing through the first years.

“Forgive and forget,” a rather round monk was saying, “we ought to give him a second chance.”

“My dear Friar,” responded a very regal looking ghost with a large ruff around his neck, “haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not even really a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?”

The ghosts all vanished into the hall except for the ruffled one and the friar, who had finally taken notice of the first years, but none of the students had a reply.

“New students!” the monk said with a wide smile. “About to be sorted? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff. My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” Professor McGonagall’s voice cut through the chill in the room, leaving a different sort of cold behind. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

The last of the ghosts passed through the wall without argument.

“Now, form a line,” she told the students, “and follow me.”

Harry shuffled along behind an unfamiliar boy, and Ron took the space behind him. Professor McGonagall took them out of the door they had come in through, back into the main hall, and lastly, through the large double doors into the Great Hall.

It was nothing like the dining hall at the Potter Estate. For starters, there were four dining tables that must’ve seated over a hundred people each. And the ceiling was so high, the sky sat inside it. Wait, no that wasn’t right.

“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione whispered.

Harry thought he might’ve retorted that no one asked, but he was too enchanted by the castle and the golden dishes and floating candles. He was also beginning to feel very nervous under the eyes of the rest of the school, and the staff sitting across the head table.

But before the students reached the head table as they walked down the center aisle, Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of them and set on it a very old-looking witch's hat. Harry suddenly felt a little bit better about his hat, even if he didn’t want to wear it. He also thought that he’d like to see Malfoy wear that hat.

Then, a rip in the brim opened, and a song came out.

 _“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_  
But don’t judge on what you see,  
I’ll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
But I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There’s nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can’t see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you’ve a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You’ll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!  
And don’t get in a flap!  
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

There was a riotous applause; the hat took its bow and became very still, like any old wizard's hat.

“That’s it?” Ron whispered to Harry. “Blimey, I could do that in my sleep.”

Sure, that was easy to do, but where were they going to end up? Harry didn’t have the precedent that Ron had. Ron had five older brothers that all got sorted into Gryffindor. Harry was all on his own. Sure, his parents were both in Gryffindor, but was that enough? As much as he wanted to do Sirius and his parents proud, he didn’t think he felt particularly brave right now. Hufflepuff might be more willing to take him.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a piece of parchment and said, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah was a small girl with pink cheeks and blonde pigtails, who stumbled forward and climbed onto the stool. She put the hat down over her head and after a moment, her sorting was announced—

“Hufflepuff!”

The table to Harry’s right cheered and the students already there, in their yellow-lined robes, shuffled over to make room for the new girl as the lining on her robes changed from black to yellow.

“Bones, Susan!”

Harry stretched onto his tiptoes to see Susan put the hat on. He wouldn’t mind being in whatever house Susan got into.

“Hufflepuff!”

Hufflepuff really wasn’t so bad, was it? Harry thought as he looked at the table of students cheering for their new recruits and welcoming them with wide smiles. He looked past the Hufflepuff table to the Gryffindor table and saw Fred and George making faces at him and Ron. He couldn’t tell what exactly they were mouthing, but he noticed them gesturing to the Slytherin table on the other side of the hall with wide grins.

Ron looked positively green in the face.

“You won’t be in Slytherin,” Harry encouraged.

“But what if I am?” Ron whispered back.

“Worst comes to worst, we can be in Hufflepuff together.”

That wasn’t cheering for Ron at all, who only moaned.

“Finnigan, Seamus,” McGonagall called, and the boy in front of Harry walked up. It took nearly a minute for the hat to finally announce, “Gryffindor!”

“Granger, Hermione!”

The girl ran to the stool and pulled the hat on her head. Harry couldn’t imagine being that excited about something right now, especially the sorting.

“Gryffindor!”

Ron moaned again, and Harry wondered what exactly the hat sorted you for. Because, so far, that girl had done nothing but boss them around and tell them things they didn’t ask about. Did it look into everything you’d done before? Would it see that he’d spoken to a snake? Harry glanced at the green table on his left, past the Ravenclaw table, and saw very clearly the silver snake embedded on the green field.

“Longbottom, Neville!”

Harry quickly turned back to the stool and waited with baited breath. Surely Neville would be in Hufflepuff. Him, Neville, Ron, and Susan could all be in Hufflepuff together. As long as he was where his friends were, it wouldn’t be so bad.

After a very very long sitting, the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!” louder than it had for anyone else.

“If Neville can do it, so can we,” Harry whispered to Ron, and that seemed to cheer Ron up at least a little.

Harry watched Ernie Macmillan go into Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy was the shortest sorting of the night. He’d barely put the hat on—had he even put it on?—when it announced, “Slytherin!”

He joined the Slytherin students, as well as Crabbe, Goyle, a girl named Bulstrode, a boy named Davis, and a girl named Greengrass. All reasons Harry did not want to join Slytherin.

Harry waited, very impatiently, for a Malone, Moon, Nott, Parkinson, two twins who got sorted between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, a Perks, and finally, McGonagall called, “Harry Potter!”

The whole room went silent for a moment, and then hushed whispers all over. He swallowed hard and wished that someone else would step forward and say that they were Harry Potter. As he walked to the stool he tugged his bangs down over his scar, and pulled the hat down over his head. The students disappeared from his view and he heard a quiet voice in his head that was definitely not his own.

“Difficult. Very difficult.” Oh no—he didn’t have any traits worthy enough for any house. He wouldn’t get sorted at all. He was going to be sent home. “No, not at all!” the hat said back. “You’ve a great destiny before you, and Slytherin is a house full of those marked for greatness. Plenty of courage, too and not a bad mind, either. You’ve a lot of talent, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting…. So where shall I put you?”

Definitely not Slytherin, Harry thought determinedly.

“No? Are you sure? Your parents were in Gryffindor, but is that what you want? Is that what you really want?”

Yes, that was exactly what Harry wanted, more than anything. Gryffindor, please.

“You’ve got the talent to go anywhere, and that’s your choice? Alright then, so it is. Gryffindor!”

There was a thunderous applause from the red table, and Harry felt a slightly warm sensation on his back and arms, and when he looked down his robes were washed in red. He handed the hat off to a Rivers without even looking and sat down next to Seamus Finnigan and Neville. Loads of Gryffindors crowded around him, reaching for his hand—even Percy, who hadn’t spoken to him in a year—or patting him on the back. The twins shouted to the rest of the hall, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” He couldn’t even hear the rest of the Sorting until the twins quieted down for, “Weasley, Ron!”

Harry craned his neck to watch his friend climb on the stool and nervously pull the hat down over his face. It was only a moment before the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!”

Harry clapped as loud as he could and patted Ron on the back, who was smiling, but very red in the face. His three brothers also congratulated him.

“Well done, Ron. Excellent,” said Percy, though Harry thought it sounded more self-congratulatory than praise meant for Ron.

Lastly, Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin, and McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away.

With all the anxiety in his stomach relieved, Harry suddenly realized how very hungry he was. Candy from the trolley hadn’t been any sort of acceptable lunch. Wasn’t there supposed to be a grand feast? But he couldn’t see or smell any sign of food.

He looked back up at the head table, and saw that Dumbledore had come to stand at the podium.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!” his voice boomed. “Before we begin our banquet, I’d like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

He tipped his head in a small bow at the laughs and applause and took his seat.

And the moment Dumbledore sat down, food appeared on their plates. Everything was hot, steaming, and smelled delicious, and there was so much of it. It was bigger than any Christmas or Halloween feast he’d had with his parents, and that wasn’t just because it was for four hundred people instead of five.

He tried to take small bites of everything, and laughed as Ron tried to scarf down whole servings of everything.

The ghost from the side chamber with the giant ruff came and sat down next to Harry. He noticed a chill, but it vanished when he took a bite of the warm mashed potatoes.

“So, if the monk over there is for Hufflepuff, are you for Gryffindor?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Sir Nicolas de—“

“Oh!” Ron interrupted. “You’re Nearly Headless Nick! Fred and George told me about you.”

“I much prefer Sir Nicolas de Mims—“

“‘Nearly Headless?’” repeated Seamus Finnigan in a thick Irish accent. “How can you be nearly headless?”

Nearly Headless Nick did not look happy with the question, and with a frown, pulled down on his ear. “Like this.” And his head came unhinged from his neck, but still hung from the side—an incomplete beheading. Lavender Brown screamed and Fred and George laughed.

He looked at least proud of the shock in the first years’ faces as he straightened his head back on. “So—new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost uneatable—he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

Harry looked across the hall and could just make out the silver ghost, sitting with the Slytherin first years. He was very creepy looking, like a ghost he might’ve seen in a Muggle film, complete with blood on his clothes and chains on his wrist.

“How did he get covered in blood?” asked Seamus.

“I’ve never asked,” Nearly Headless Nick answered, in that same uncomfortable tone he’d used when Seamus asked how anyone could be nearly headless. Harry wasn’t sure if it was because ghosts didn’t like to talk about their death or if Sir Nicolas just didn’t like Seamus.

After everyone was full, dessert came around. Harry thought he was too full, but grabbed a treacle tart anyway. He took a bite of that and tried some of the apple pie and one of the jam doughnuts, and people started talking about their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus said with a grin. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mum didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

The first years erupted into laughter.

“We’re all pureblooded,” Neville mumbled when everyone was looking at him. “Though—Mum and Dad thought I might not be magical at all. Mum was ready to raise me with Muggle children, but my gran kept insisting I’d turn out fine. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to get me to do magic, accidentally dropped me off a balcony once, and I bounced down the street. My Mum wasn’t too happy, but everyone was glad I was magic, and when I got my letter, Great Uncle Algie bought me my toad.”

“Harry, your family is pureblooded too, isn’t it?” Parvati Patil asked.

“Er, sort of?” Harry grinned. He was just glad to have a question like everyone else, and not something about his scar or You-Know-Who. “Mum’s a Muggle-born. Makes me half, actually. But she’s a better witch than dad, most days. Especially in the mornings.”

And the table laughed again, and Harry thought that was such a wonderful feeling. To have friends to laugh with. Family was good, but this was really nice too.

He turned to ask Hermione what her family was like—rather surprised she hadn’t volunteered the information herself—and found her already asking Percy about classes. That was hours away, he thought with a roll of his eyes. Why spoil a good evening by talking about homework already?

Harry looked back to the table and saw Hagrid, still eating and drinking. McGonagall was next to Dumbledore, talking quietly. And on the end were two professors he didn’t recognize—but one looked very familiar.

There was a professor wearing an absurd purple turban, who kept fiddling awkwardly with his hands. And the teacher he was talking to had greasy black hair and a large hooked nose. Something about him looked very familiar to Harry, and he wasn’t sure why.

And then, as Harry was staring past the large purple turban at the professor, their eyes met, and there was a sharp pain in his forehead. He gasped and clutched a hand to the scar on his head.

“What is it?” Percy asked quickly.

“Er—nothing.” The pain had already faded. But it had never done that before. Harry wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He wondered if he could ask his parents. But, then again, they didn’t like talking about his scar in person. Surely they wouldn’t want to write to him about it in a letter.

“Who’s that professor there? With the dark hair?” he asked Percy.

“The one talking to Professor Quirrell? That’s Professor Snape. Head of Slytherin House. He teaches Potions, but he really wants Defense Against the Dark Arts. Been after it for years. Everyone says he’s biased to his own house, but that’s ridiculous. He’s a professor. Students just like to complain. Do your work, pay attention, and you’ll be just fine.”

But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he would definitely not be fine. He hadn’t seen anyone glare at him with such loathing before.

And finally, when the desserts had gone, Dumbledore stood back at the podium and the entire hall quieted down.

“Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

“Don’t know what he means,” Fred whispered into Harry’s ear with a grin.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Harry laughed a little, but some of the other students didn’t, and he wondered if it wasn’t another one of Dumbledore’s humorous jokes. And the professors all looked odd as well.

“Is he serious?” he asked Percy.

“Must be,” Percy frowned. “It’s odd, because he usually give us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere—the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might’ve told us prefects at least.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore said. 

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the words appeared on a long golden ribbon that twisted in the air above them. Just when Harry was wondering if it would be a familiar tune, Dumbledore said, “Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!”

Harry laughed and went along, trying to match his new friends’ songs at different parts. He started following Ron, then tried Seamus’s tune, before finishing off with a familiar melody he knew but couldn’t remember how he knew.

The whole school finished at different times, and in the end, the only ones left singing were Fred and George, going on at the pace and tone of a very slow funeral dirge. Instead of hurrying them along, like Harry expected a teacher to, Dumbledore conducted them through the end of their last, long, final note.

“Ah, music,” he said as he clapped with the rest of the students. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Harry realized he was very sleepy—it had been a long day and he’d been up since six. He followed Percy out of the Great Hall and up the stairs—up a lot of stairs. He wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to find his way down again. Just when he was wondering if there was some sort of map for first years, they arrived at a portrait of a very large woman in a pink ballroom gown.

“Password,” she said, and Percy immediately replied, “Caput Draconis.” The portrait swung outward, revealing a round hole in the wall. The students scrambled in behind Percy and emerged in a room decorated in red velvet with gold embroidery on all the plush pillows and armchairs—and there were a lot of cushions. It reminded Harry of nights when he and his parents would take all the pillows in the house they could find and pile them into the parlor, just for the fun of it. Except that had been a much wider color palette. This was all decked out in Gryffindor colors.

Percy led them to a stairwell; up one set was the girls’ dorm, and the other was the boys’ dorm. Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean Thomas walked into their new dormitory and found all their trunks already present. Harry immediately let Hedwig out of her cage and she fluttered around the room for a moment before taking off outside.

“Scabbers! You don’t go in my bed,” Ron grumbled as he gently set the weasel on the floor. Scabbers crawled under the bed where he spent the rest of the night gnawing on the frame and keeping Ron awake with his tiny chewing noises.

But Harry was too exhausted to even notice as he flopped onto his bed. He was asleep instantly, and had a strange dream that instead of the Sorting Hat, he was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban, and it was insisting he be re-sorted into Slytherin. His destiny was too great and he had no choice in the matter. Harry refused and tried to pull the turban off, and all the while someone was laughing at him. At first it was Draco, and then it was Snape, and then it was a face he didn’t recognize—but there was a flash of green light and he awoke trembling.

But he fell asleep shortly after, and when he awoke in the morning, the only memory of his dream was a faint throb in his scar that he hardly noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you thought Harry would end up sorted differently, though I'm not entirely sure why. If anything, being raised with James and Lily and Sirius and Remus would want to be in Gryffindor even more. But seriously, if anyone knows a good Slytherin-Harry AU, I want to read it. I love all the gifsets I see on tumblr. (Slytherin-Harry and Ravenclaw-Hermione and Hufflepuff-Ron with Gryffindor-Neville is one of my favorite au-teamups.)


	8. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the one and only Professor Severus Snape.

The next morning at the Great Hall, the students were treated to a breakfast that was not as elaborate as the feast the night before, but was just as bountiful.

Harry helped himself to toast and eggs while Ron reached for a sausage and the owls swooped into the hall.

It was a fascinating sight. Hundreds of owls swirled over the students’ heads in the enchanted sky, dropping letters and parcels to their intended recipients. Hedwig stood out among them, snowy white, and swooped down with a small letter for Harry. She picked at his eggs while he read it.

_“Dear Harry,_

We’re hope you’re settling in all right. Don’t feel rushed to right us back, since we’re sure you’ll be busy with your school work, but your father and I would love to hear how your Sorting went. Wherever you end up, we know you’ll do well.

We miss you terribly at home, of course. It’s not the same cooking for two as it is for three, and the house is so quiet. Your father can’t make enough noise for the both of you.

Write us when you have time.

With love,

Mum and Dad”

Harry scribbled, _“Gryffindor,”_ on the back of the letter and tied it to Hedwig. She snatched the corner of his toast before taking off, and Harry and Ron rushed off to Herbology.

Professor Sprout was a sweet lady, but didn’t tolerate any messing around. She lectured them for over an hour on proper safety in the greenhouse, from dragon hide gloves to enchanted goggles before finally having them take out a parchment for notes and not doing any practical work.

After Herbology was History of Magic—the most boring class Harry could imagine. The ghost professor droned on and on and it took all he had to stay awake long enough to take any notes. If he and the rest of the boys in the dormitory pooled their notes, they nearly had the whole lecture.

Tuesday, Harry received another letter from his parents.

 _“Congratulations!”_ was written at the top, in all capitals, clearly his father’s penmanship.

 _“We’re so proud,”_ Lily’s writing continued, _“and we know you’ll do well. Gryffindor is a wonderful house. Hope you’re adjusting well to your classes and learning a lot!_

Write us when you can.

With love,

Mum and Dad

P.S. Check under your bed for my name. We left our mark before we graduated. You could be in my bed!”

Harry gave some of his toast to Hedwig and she hung around him and Ron for the rest of breakfast, before flying back up to the owlry while they went to Charms.

The second day of getting to class wasn’t any better than the first. People were constantly whispering wherever he and Ron went, trying to get a glimpse of him, and the changing staircases didn’t help any.

Charms, however, wasn’t too hard to find. Professor Flitwick—short stature, and easily excitable—toppled over when he saw Harry Potter on his class roster. Harry rather wished he wouldn’t.

Transfiguration was exactly the opposite. Professor McGonagall looked as stern as she had that first day she led them into the Great Hall. She did not give Harry a smile, or pause before calling his name for attendance. She proceeded with class like it was any other group of first year students. And though he was relieved McGonagall didn’t treat him differently, Transfiguration was unfortunately difficult. He had trouble grasping the complicated theories, and when she had them turning matchsticks into needles, Harry couldn’t seem to make it do much of anything. He had no idea why this was his father’s favorite class. At least the rest of the class didn’t do too well either. It was only Hermione who made any progress in turning her matchstick into a needle.

Wednesday morning, Hedwig brought him another letter.

“Blimey, Harry, does your Mum ever lay off?” Ron had gotten just one letter from his mother, congratulating him on making Gryffindor and encouraging him to do well in his classes.

“This isn’t from my Mum,” Harry said with a grin, immediately recognizing Sirius’s large and excessively curled handwriting on the parchment envelope.

_“Harry!_

James told me you made Gryffindor! Congratulations. I knew you had it in you. Did you look under your bed yet? James, Remus, and I all left our names under the beds. You could be in mine.

Write soon. I want to hear how your year is going!

Love,

Sirius

P.S. Have you met Professor Snape yet? Tell him I said hello.”

“Snape’s Potions, right?” Harry asked Ron as they got up for Herbology again.

“Yep. When’s that again?”

“Friday. With the Slytherins,” Harry sighed.

But for now, they had Herbology, History of Magic, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry had been excited for Defense against the Dark Arts. That was before he met Professor Quirrell, a very nervous man. He stuttered a lot and told them all disjointed stories. They hardly had any practical lessons. Most of it was lecture, and even when someone asked an interesting question—like what happened to the zombie in Africa or was there really a vampire in Romania—he would stutter a vague answer and change the subject of the class.

Thursday morning after a midnight Astronomy class, Harry was greeted with two letters. They were brief, and both generally communicated the same thing.

_“Dear Harry,_

Congratulations on getting into Gryffindor. We’re all so proud of you.

I’m sure your father already told you, but the four of us left our names under our beds. The beds have probably been replaced since then, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

I know Sirius told you to mention him to Professor Snape. Do not do that. Please. It would not do well to start off the year with any of your professors badly.

With love,

Uncle Remus.”

And the second was like it,

_“Dear Harry,_

Please do not mention Sirius to Professor Snape. They have a bad history, and while Sirius may think it was funny, you would not have seen the humor—and neither would Severus.

Hope your classes are going well and you’re settling in just fine. I know they’re feeding you properly, but your father and I still worry. We hope to hear from you soon, but your classes come first.

With love,

Mum and Dad”

“Professor Snape’s first name is Severus?” Ron asked when Harry told him why he’d gotten two letters that day.

Harry shrugged. “Professor McGongall’s is Minerva. Maybe all teachers have to have fancy names.”

“You’re the one with uncles named Remus and Sirius,” Ron laughed.

Harry grabbed his bag and grinned, “And you have Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon.”

They were laughing at each other, exchanging weird names from their families--Billius, Linfred, Iolanthe--as they headed to Transfiguration and subsequently took a wrong turn. The door they expected to be open was locked, and suddenly Mrs. Norris and Filch were berating them for trying to go down the forbidden corridor. Harry and Ron tried to say they were only lost, but Filch wouldn’t hear of it. It was only Professor Quirrell, passing by on his way to his class that saved them and set them on the right staircase (facing the right direction) to Professor McGonagall’s class.

Afterward was Herbology again. Three times a week. At least, this time, Professor Sprout let them get their hands dirty by showing them how to properly plant a Snare Devil.

After that was another History of Magic lecture that Harry could not stay awake through, a Charms class where they were actually allowed to use their wands, and finally their day was done.

Harry very nearly wrote a letter to his mother and father that night, but was too exhausted by the time he and Ron got back to the dormitory. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, after their midnight Astronomy class, so nearly all the first years were asleep as soon as they got back from dinner. Only the most determined managed to scribble out a few lines of their first Transfiguration assignment.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry didn’t receive a letter from Lily or James or Sirius or Remus. He knew that he would have to respond to them after Potions.

He did, however, receive a letter written in a handwriting he did not recognize.

_“Dear Harry,_

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?

I want to hear all about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig.

—Hagrid”

His family could wait a little longer for a letter. Harry was curious about this giant-of-a-man and how it all tied in to the story behind his scar. If Hagrid was as close to his family as Sirius, close enough to be there the night he got his scar, why had he never met Hagrid? He hardly remembered his parents mentioning him.

Harry quickly wrote, “Sounds fantastic. See you later,” on the back of the note and sent it off with Hedwig.

Thank goodness he had something to look forward to after Potions besides responding to letters and doing more homework, because Potions turned out to be the worst class in the history of the wizarding world.

Harry didn’t understand why Snape disliked him, but it was definitely there, and it wasn’t just dislike. It was more like an unfathomably deep loathing. 

To start, class was in the dungeons. Anyone who preferred to hold their class in the dungeons was either really exciting and interesting or really dark and creepy. Snape was the latter. The glass jars filled with animal parts soaking in florescent green liquid did nothing to abate the creepy atmosphere.

Snape went through roll call, and like so many professors before, paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity.”

A handful of the Slytherins in the class chuckled and Harry whipped around, but Draco looked innocent—smug, but innocent.

Snape finished roll call without any other comment, and began his class right away without introducing himself.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking.” At the least, he knew how to hold an audience with a quiet yet dramatic voice. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…. I can teach you how to bottle fan, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Harry was on one hand enthralled and the other hand rather put off by this over-dramatic display. He was already preferring McGonagall’s straightforward approach of, “This class is interesting but difficult so pay attention.” He also definitely didn’t appreciate the dig at the class’s intelligence—they were all of them only first years—and maybe his disapproval showed on his face, because Snape singled him out.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added leaves of a pheasant’s eye to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry didn’t know there were leaves in pheasant’s eyes. Or was pheasant’s eye a type of plant? And wormwood—wasn’t that for stomach aches? He glanced at Ron for help, who shrugged, but Hermione’s hand shot in the air.

“I don’t know, Sir,” Harry said.

Snape’s sneered.

“Tut, tut—fame clearly isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. What would happen if I properly added marigold petals to a sleeping potion?”

Hermione seemed to know the answer to that too, but Harry couldn’t say he remembered coming across that word in his text books. He could hear Malfoy and his cronies laughing behind him. He tried to ignore them, but he felt the tips of his ears turn pink.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh Potter?”

Harry stared straight back at Snape and held in every sarcastic retort that pressed on the tip of his tongue. It was one thing to sass back his mother and father or Sirius when they were making him mad. There was usually another adult to intervene. But this—this was a teacher, at school, and Remus had encouraged him to get along with his teachers. But was it really his fault Snape was being so impossible?

“What’s the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry knew wolfsbane was also called aconite, but he’d never heard of monkshood before. Hermione, however, looked like she might rocket out of her seat at any minute.

“I don’t know,” Harry said and couldn’t help it—“I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” He heard Ron and Dean Thomas chuckle on either side of him. He caught Seamus’s eye and Seamus winked. Snape was not amused.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, pheasant’s eye and wormwood are the main ingredients in a potion for relaxing anxiety. Marigold in a sleeping potion can have the side effect of prophetic visions while sleeping. And for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Everyone scrambled for quills and parchment, and Harry quickly wrote down what Snape had said. 

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Harry was glad he hadn’t said any of the other things he’d been dying to spit back at Snape, and instead just scribbled, “Snape is gross and greasy,” in the margins of the notes and scribbled a rather grotesque caricature of Snape with an over-exaggerated hook-nose for the course of the lecture.

After lecture was practical, and they were all paired off to construct a simple potion to cure boils. Harry worked with Ron and they used Ron’s notes while Harry tucked his back in his bag, since Snape was walking around examining their work. Unfortunately, Ron’s notes weren’t quite as useful as Harry’s would have been. On occasion, when Snape wasn’t looking, Harry sneaked a glance at Hermione’s notes, to make sure they were properly weighing ingredients.

Snape was busy praising Malfoy’s potion, telling everyone it was stewed to perfection, when a green smoke and loud hissing came from the Gryffindor side of the room.

All the Gryffindors leapt onto their stools as a thick green sludge melted through Seamus’s cauldron and put holes in student’s shoes. All the Gryffindors jumped onto their stools, except Neville, who had gotten the failed potion all over himself, and was whimpering in pain as boils sprung up all over his skin.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, and the potion was gone with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Nevile only moaned back.

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry.

“You—Potter—why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ron kicked him.

“Don’t push it,” he said quietly. “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”

An hour later, when they left the dungeon, Harry felt like he was going to spill over with anger and guilt. Anger at Snape, but also guilty that he’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week. He couldn’t understand why Snape hated him so much. But then again, Snape seemed to like Malfoy, so anyone with that bad taste probably didn’t need logical explanations.

“Cheer up,” Ron said. “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come meet Hagrid with you?”

After lunch, they left the castle and crossed the grounds to Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When Harry knocked on the door of the hut, there were loud barks and a scrabbling noise. They heard Hagrid shouting, “Back Fang!” before opening the door.

He opened it only just enough for the two boys to slip inside while he held his large mastiff at bay.

The hut was only one room. Food hanging over the fire, a boiling kettle, a table, and a bed. There wasn’t much else in the small hut.

“Make yourselves at home,” Hagrid said, and let go of Fang. The dog was large with slobbering jowls, but when it jumped at Ron, it only licked him.

“This is Ron,” Harry introduced them, as he sat down onto a very large chair.

“Another Weasley, eh? I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest. How many more of yeh are there?”

“Just one,” Ron said as he glumly tried to wipe Fang’s slobber off with his robes.

Tea with Hagrid was the most unpleasant tea Harry had in a long time, but the most pleasant conversation he could have asked for. The rock cakes were impossible to eat, and the tea was stronger than any Harry had tasted, but Hagrid listened to their woes about the week with the appropriate amount of sympathy. He even called Flich, “that old git.”

“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ted the school, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her—Filch puts her up to it.”

The only thing Hagrid couldn’t seem to understand was Snape. When Harry insisted Snape hated him, Hagrid only said, “Snape hardly likes any of ‘is students.”

“But he seemed to really hate me.”

“Rubbish! Why should he?”

Harry frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Hagrid was hiding something. Everyone was hiding something from him and he was rather tired of it.

In a completely subtle change of topic, Hagrid asked Ron, “How’s yer brother Charlie? I liked him a lot—great with animals.”

While Ron talked to Hagrid about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry glanced around the small hut. There wasn’t a whole lot to take in. He picked up a scrap of paper from under the tea cozy and realized it was actually a newspaper clipping.

“GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST” read the headline.

“Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. ‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokespgoblin this afternoon.”

Harry knew about the break-in, but why did Hagrid have a clipping of it? Judging by the hut, Hagrid didn’t have an account in Gringotts. Or if he did, no one was breaking into it to steal anything. He did remember Hagrid saying something about Hogwarts business in Diagon Alley on his birthday.

“Hagrid? You didn’t break into Diagon Alley on my birthday did you?”

“What? No, of course not Harry. What makes yeh say that?”

“You were there the day it happened. Was it that little package that wasn’t my present? And you had a key—was it for a vault in Gringotts? What was it you took out? Was that what people wanted to steal?”

Hagrid did not answer any of those questions and offered him another rock cake.

The boys walked back to the castle as the sun started to set, and Harry could not help but turn over the conversation every way he could. What was the package? How did it link to Hogwarts? Why did someone want to steal it? And what weren’t people telling him about Snape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the translation of Snape's original question to Harry--"What do you get when you mix crushed asphodel root with wormwood?" which, asphodel is a lily that in Victorian flower language means, "My regrets follow you to the grave," and wormwood is known as a bitter herb, so Snape is saying to Harry, "I bitterly regret Lily's death."
> 
> Since Lily's not dead, I had to modify this a bit. Pheasant's Eye means "sorrowful remembrance." And pheasant's eye or Adonis is used to slow heart rate. (Ironically, wormwood contains chemicals that are accelerants and can be toxic.)
> 
> And I chose marigold instead of a bezoar, because, while a bezoar is important, a marigold had greater importance to me. It represents both love and passion as well as sorrow, and in myth and magic is thought to induce psychic visions, so I chose it to connect to the way in which Snape was responsible for the attack on the Potters (by sharing Trewlany's prophecy with Voldemort), while still expressing his feelings for Lily.
> 
> I kept the monkshood and wolfsbane, because not only is it a potential jibe at Remus Lupin, traditionally aconite means both chivalry and misandry. I didn't think there could be a plant that suited Snape any better.
> 
> I know a lot of you were expecting Snape to maybe be nicer, or have repaired his relationship with Lily and James in some way but I can't see this happening for a lot of reasons. Not only would Snape still feel intense guilt that he nearly killed Lily--guilt Dumbledore would probably still hold over him--Lily would never, for an instant, let him get away with the fact that he was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy. And I can't imagine them repairing their friendship without that secret spilling out, and I can't imagine them repairing their friendship after that secret spilled out. (We WILL see more of this in Order of the Phoenix though.) I hope this helps reconcile any expectations you had with what I wrote. Always happy to chat and exchange headcanons!


	9. The Midnight Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry attends flying lessons, Malfoy challenges him to a duel and doesn't show. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville end up running from Filch and finding a three-headed-dog guarding a trap door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a REALLY LONG TIME on this chapter because I had no idea how to write it. This story is turning into something of a carbon copy of the original book. The only difference was that I gave Harry a bit more confidence in his magical abilities, having grown up a wizard instead of a Muggle.
> 
> So I made a decision, that on chapters like this, where they play out nearly exactly the same, I'd write letters instead. Here are the letters that Harry exchanged with his family during Chapter Nine, The Midnight Duel, of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Classes have been a lot of work. There’s so much to learn, I don’t even know where to start. Was Professor Binns a ghost when you were at school? He’s very dull now, and I hope he was at least a little better when he was living.

Professor McGonagall says hello. She also said she hopes I’m as good at Transfiguration as Dad. But I don’t know. It’s very hard.

I like Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell is pretty boring. He mumbles and stutters a lot, and we don’t get to do much, but it’s the most interesting reading. Fred and George said there’s a new teacher every year because the position is cursed. Is that true? Did you have a new teacher every year?

I don’t like Potions. At all. Professor Snape HATES me. I don’t know why. I thought my potion was just fine, but he liked Malfoy’s best, and then he yelled at me because Neville’s melted the cauldron. I wasn’t even working with Neville, I was working with Ron!

I also can’t stand Draco Malfoy. He’s rude, called the Weasley’s blood-traitors, and then asked if I wanted to be his friend. I was going to punch him, but Ron’s weasel ended up biting Goyle and they ran away. Mum always said you were arrogant, Dad, but I hope you weren’t like that. He’s awful. And he’s always making smug faces at me.

But Ron and I get along really well. He’s great. We both like Quidditch. A lot. Can we bring Ron to the World Cup when it happens?

I had tea with Hagrid today. His tea isn’t as good as yours, Mum. You should send some scones. I miss eating at home.

With love,

Harry

PS: Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and I all checked under our beds. Neville has “Nymphadora Tonks” scribbled under his bed and Ron has, “Charlie Weasley” on his. Wasn’t Nymphadora in Hufflepuff? Maybe they move the beds around. I hope Draco Malfoy isn’t in your bed.

——

Dear Harry,

School sounds exciting. I know it can be hard, but just do your best. It will be enough. You’re very smart, and you’ll be able to do it.

Yes, Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff. But she was always getting into trouble. Try not to sneak into other students’ dormitories to carve your names under their beds. You don’t need to rack up a list of detentions like your father did.

The Quidditch World Cup is a long ways away. If we go, your friends are welcome to come.

Here’s a box of scones, though they probably won’t be warm by the time they arrive. Sounds like you should give one to Ron’s weasel, too. He sounds like quite the valiant Gryffindor.

With love,

Mum and Dad

\------

Dear Uncle Remus,

Thank you for your letter. I didn’t tell Snape that Sirius said anything. But I got in trouble anyway. Why is Snape such a jerk? I know you said I should get along with my professors, but I don’t think I’ll be able to with Snape.

I really like Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s not as exciting as it is learning from you or Dad, though. Professor Quirrell doesn’t let us practice much. He talks about a lot of things, but your stories and Dad’s were always more exciting.

Quirrell said he met a vampire in Romania. Are there a lot of vampires out there? Also, he wears a turban that smells disgusting. Everyone says he keeps garlic in it to keep away the vampire. Does that really work?

Love,

Harry Potter

——

Dear Harry,

PROFESSOR Snape is your teacher, and you need to listen to him in class, even if he can be harsh on Gryffindors. Just do your best in Potions. There’s a lot to learn and remember, but you can do it.

Vampires are actually very common in Romania and there are several pockets of them throughout Eastern Europe. Much more common there than in the west. You’re not likely to run into one out here, unless they’ve been bitten, though I’ve known a couple of half-vampires.

Vampires are protected under the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard-Part-Humans (note: there is some record of vampires being wizards and it’s actually common among half-vampires, and the laws become even murkier there) but even though they’re protected, there is a lot of discrimination against them. I knew a very nice half-vampire who couldn’t get a job. Everyone’s excuse was that she could only work from dusk to dawn, and had to sleep during the afternoon, but it was pretty clear they just didn’t want to hire a half-vampire. Some even doubted her ability to do magic, though she has the strongest perfume charms I’ve ever seen. They’re quite nice. She’s doing very well for herself now, selling perfume and potpourri, but her shop is only open at night. When you’re older, I can take you to meet her, if you like.

As for garlic, it does keep vampires away, but it’s not poisonous to them. They look at garlic the way you looked at Sirius’s cookies, that one time he tried baking while your parents were out. It’s very repugnant to them, and it will make a few of them sick if they ingest it, but it isn’t deadly. There are some cases of vampires claiming immunity to garlic, but there hasn’t been any real verification on the subject.

And, anyway, vampires are just like us. Except they drink blood instead of pumpkin juice. You should have no need to ward one off, unless you make him or her angry. As long as you treat them the way you treat anyone else, you’ll be fine. Some can be a little stuck-up, but overall, they’re very charming people with an interesting nightlife.

Good luck in your classes. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, but I won’t write your essays for you. I didn’t even write your father’s when he was in school. I just edited for him and Sirius. Don’t let them lie to you. Maybe I wrote an introduction or two. But I promise made them do most of the work.

Love,

Uncle Remus

——

Dear Sirius, 

I love Hogwarts! Flying lessons start soon. I wish I had my broom. I hear the school brooms are awful. And we have to learn with the Slytherins. I don’t like them at all. Especially Draco Malfoy. And Potions with them is bad enough.

Snape absolutely hates me. I didn’t say anything about you to him, and he still got me in trouble even though I didn’t do anything. What is his problem? I don’t understand.

Love,

Harry

——

Dear Harry,

I don’t blame you for not getting along with Slytherins. I grew up in a house full of them and couldn’t stand it. Draco Malfoy sounds a lot like his father when we were in school. Mind you, don’t let Filch catch you hexing him. Your mother would probably say don’t do it at all, but if he’s got it coming then it’s his fault, isn’t it?

Snape went to school with your mother, father, Remus, and I. He was friends with your mother but your father and I didn’t get along with him. I thought it’d be funny if he got a sarcastic hello from me, but maybe it’s better you don’t start off your school year making him think about me and your dad. He’s known to hold something of a grudge. But he was always excellent with dirty jinxes. Stay on his good side.

Love,  
Sirius

——

Dear Sirius,

Remember what I told you about Draco Malfoy? I didn’t know I could dislike him even more.

Flying lessons went great, actually. Ask Dad. But after totally showing Malfoy up during flying lessons, he threw a fit and challenged me to a wizards duel. OF COURSE I accepted. But when I showed up, Malfoy wasn’t there. He’d even given Filch a warning that students would be at the meeting place. WHAT A COWARD. (Don’t tell Mum and Dad I snuck out of the dormitory to go to a duel with another student. Mum would send a howler.)

Please send me a good hex or two for Malfoy. Next time he tries to show off, I want to be ready.

Love,  
Harry

——

Dear Mum and Dad,

You’ll NEVER guess what happened at flying lessons.

GO ON.

GUESS.

So, I was being a well-behaved Gryffindor. Perfectly good. Didn’t even say anything when Madam Hooch corrected my grip. (Which, speaking of, Dad, did you know if you pull your hands to the center you can pull up faster? It totally worked!) I was being well-behaved, and then Neville got nervous and sort of took off and ended up falling and breaking his wrist. He’s alright now, though. Madam Pomfrey mended him up right quick. But while Madam Hooch took him to see Madam Pomfrey, Malfoy thought it’d be funny to take Neville’s Remembrall and hide it somewhere like in a tree or a tower.

You know I’m trying really hard to obey school rules, right Mum? And I haven’t gotten a single detention so far. Uncle Remus told me that Dad had three detentions by his second week.

So you know I’m not trying to get in trouble when I tell you that I had to go after Malfoy. No one else was doing anything! So I got on my broom and flew after Malfoy and told him to hand the Remembrall over. He said no and then ended up throwing it up. Well I CAUGHT IT after a 50-foot dive. Dad, it was amazing. I wish you could’ve seen it.

Then McGonagall saw me. I thought I was in so much trouble. She was yelling and everything. She had that stern look on her face. But instead of expelling me, she introduced me to the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

I’M GOING TO BE THE NEW SEEKER FOR GRYFFINDOR!

I’m the youngest seeker in a century. That’s what McGonagall and Oliver Wood said. You have to come to all my games! And Uncle Remus and Sirius, too, of course!

Also, you need to send me my Nimbus 2000. McGonagall said to wait until you hear from her or Dumbledore, but promise you’ll send it the moment they okay it? I want to start practicing!

With love,

Harry

P.S. How are you? Is everything okay? Your letter was rather short. But the scones were delicious! Thanks a lot! Ron said they were almost as good as Mrs. Weasley’s (and, I’m sorry, but, he’s right. Her cooking’s always been a little better).

——

Dear Uncle Remus,

BIG NEWS. But I don’t want to tell it three times, so ask to read the letter I sent Mum and Dad.

Otherwise, classes are fine. Thanks for the information about vampires. I’ll probably use a lot of it in the essay due next Thursday. Want to tell me the secret to brewing a perfect cauldron of Twinkling Dew? That essay’s due on Friday.

What do you know about three-headed dogs? Are they very vicious? Can they be kept as pets?

Love,  
Harry

——

Dear Harry,

I did not get three detentions my second week of school. Sirius and I, between the two of us, had three detentions our second week. One was shared, and then we each got one individually. Remus exaggerates and assumes we both always were in trouble for the same things. Not true.

AND CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING SEEKER. WOW.

I never would’ve expected you to make Quidditch team your first year! Mum and I are so proud of you. Write us as soon as you know when your first game is. I know you’re going to be amazing! Sirius has already said he’ll be there for sure, and Remus has said he’ll attend as long as it doesn’t conflict with any other obligations he has in his calendar.

We’re all so excited for you. Mum says not to let Quidditch interfere with your studies, but I know you won’t. You’re our son, so you should do excellent in everything. At least, between the two of us. I was never very good in History. And your Mum was certainly never any good at Quidditch, but we make up for each other’s flaws, and so then you should have the best of us each, right?

Everything is fine at home. Your mother’s a bit stir crazy without you to look out for. She started saying things like, “Maybe I should get a job,” which is ridiculous. She doesn’t need one. But we definitely miss having you around. Already counting the days until Christmas.

We’ll send your broom as soon as we get the OK from McGonagall or Dumbledore. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you waiting for that any longer than I have to.

With love,

Mum and Dad

P.S. Sirius mentioned something about you getting into a fight with Malfoy? Please be careful. Just because I got detentions in school doesn’t mean you should too. Best of us both, right?

——

Dear Harry,

CONGRATULATIONS.

You’re not only the youngest Seeker in a century, you’ll be the best Seeker in a century. I know you’ll be great. You’ve been flying since before you could walk!

Your father wouldn’t let me read the letter. Had to tell it himself. Said you dove nearly 100 feet for that little marble. That’s incredible!

This Malfoy kid sounds like he had it coming. Do me a favor and try out a good strong Bogey hex on him. Or a Hurling Hex on his broom next time you go out for flying lessons. The trick is not getting caught.

Best of luck!

Love,

Sirius

——

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on becoming a seeker! That’s incredible! I’m sure you’re mother’s already told you, but do keep up with your school work. You’re being afforded a wonderful privilege. Use it well.

I’m glad I was able to help with the vampires. And I’m afraid I hardly remember a Twinkling Dew potion. Potions really was my worst subject. Try your mother if you really need help with potions. It was one of her best subjects. Though I suppose, being friends with Severus helped her out there.

I don’t recall Cerberus’s being on the list of creatures you study in first year. Did Ron mention one?

There’s not a lot known about Cerberus’s. They’re very rare and hard to study even if you find one.

I do not recommend keeping one as a pet. Ever. They’re very vicious dogs, who only eat raw meat and that includes living people! They’re known in mythology for guarding the gates to the underworld, because they can keep living people out, but let spirits in. Muggles have a legend about a man besting Cerberus without a weapon, though it’s not very true. There is record of a wizard who tried stunning a Cerberus and had his wand arm bitten off before he could cast his spell.

I don’t know why you’re studying Cerberus’s but I don’t think you want to get too close to one. They can be charmed to sleep with good music, but I doubt you could get close enough to try.

If you’re looking for a good breed of dog, ask Sirius. He should be able to point you in the right direction.

Love,

Uncle Remus


	10. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives his broomstick; a troll is let loose in the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, chapter 10 doesn't deviate very much. So here are letters.  
> I did realize that people might want a refresher on the chapters, so I have my "version" of JKR's chapters, which are for the most part, just abbreviated and slightly varied from her original chapters. The dialogue is 90% identical, and the events are equally identical, I just try very hard to change the wording in the narration so that I'm not copying her verbatim, and that the chapters still sound like my writing rather than hers. Not sure if it works at all.  
> But, optional reads, Chapters Nine and Ten can be found here:  
> [Chapter Nine](http://chasertiff.tumblr.com/post/93804775223/hp-and-the-philosophers-stone-everyone-lives-au)  
> [Chapter Ten](http://chasertiff.tumblr.com/post/94659466603/harry-potter-and-the-philosophers-stone-everyone)  
> And for those with 0 interest in that, read on to the letters!

Dear Harry,

Again, congratulations on making the Gryffindor Quidditch team. We’re so proud of you. Please promise to be careful and only use your broom during practice and not to use it to get yourself into trouble. And don’t let it take time away from your school work. And don’t forget to stay well-rested. You know how dangerous it is to fly when you’re tired.

We love you and miss you.

Love,

Mom and Dad

P.S. DO NOT OPEN THIS AT BREAKFAST. I’m sure you can imagine the uproar a first year getting a broom will cause. Please be considerate of your classmates.

——

Dear Mum and Dad,

Sorry I haven’t had time to write. Things have been very busy! I’m trying very hard to work on all my classes while doing Quidditch practice. At least Quidditch is something I’m good at. Can’t say the same for Potions.

Are things still going well at home? Mum isn’t really going to get a job is she? That would be kind of weird. Ron’s Mum doesn’t work. But his Dad does, so I guess that’s okay. And both Neville’s parents work. And Susan’s aunt. Would she get a ministry job or a Muggle job? A Muggle job might be kind of fun.

My first Quidditch game is November 16. I hope you can come. And Sirius and Uncle Remus.

I’ll see you soon. The Halloween Feast is coming up, and then it’s only a month until our first game. I’m so excited I can’t wait! But also there is too much and I wish it could slow down just a little bit. Does school always feel like this?

With love,

Harry

——

Dear Harry,

Of course we’ll be at your Quidditch game. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.

And I don’t know if I’ll be getting a job or not. I only glanced through the ads in the Prophet and your father nearly had a fit. I just need something to do at home now that you’re not here is all. It’s a bit dull when I don’t have to chase down your broom or worry about patching up your scrapes. As much as I could do that to your father, he generally takes care of himself.

Uncle Remus thinks he can make your Quidditch match. I’m sure it would take a hoard of dementors to keep Sirius away.

And yes, school always feels like that. It’s alright. You’ll get used to it, and if not, you’ll have summer breaks to help out.

With Love,

Mum and Dad

——

Dear Sirius,

Thanks for the spells! I haven’t tried them yet, but I did open my Nimbus 2000 at breakfast where Malfoy could see. He looked so jealous. It was some worthy revenge.

Also please stop telling Mum and Dad things. Dad thinks I’ve gotten into a fight when I didn’t even, I was just out of bed late. The garden snake was months ago. I said I was sorry—even if it was pretty funny. Dad and Uncle Remus even thought so.

I hope you can come to my Quidditch game!

Love,

Harry

——

Dear Harry,

Sorry about that slip. I only mentioned to your dad you were coming along as an excellent dueler, and he asked me where that came from, and I told him that Malfoy had challenged you and you’d accepted. Not to worry, your mum didn’t hear a word of it. And I did tell your dad you didn’t get into any trouble and there wasn’t a fight. I don’t think he believed me.

I’ll go through my old books and school things, if I can find any of it. I think most my first-year things might’ve been left at the old house. I’ll see if I have anything you’d be able to use and send it your way as soon as I do. Might even be able to find some Zonko’s stuff. The good old stuff, none of the boring newfangled ones.

I’ll definitely be at your Quidditch game. I wouldn’t miss it for the world! If I remember right, the first match is always Gryffindor-Slytherin, eh? I’ll break out all the red and gold I have. You’ll crush ‘em. I know it!

Best of luck and see you soon!

With love,

Sirius

——

Dear Uncle Remus,

I’m so excited you can come to my Quidditch match! (At least, Mum said you were coming. You are coming, aren’t you?)

We’ve just had the Halloween Feast. I’m sure it would’ve been amazing, but there was a bit of an accident. McGonagall said she’d tell Dumbledore, so I’m sure Mum and Dad know already, but if they don’t, just show them this, okay? (I figured I should tell you because it’s more your area of expertise.)

So Ron and I walk into the Great Hall and we’re just about to start eating when Quirrell comes running in and tells Dumbledore that there’s a troll in the dungeon. And then everyone is running around and prefects are trying to get everyone into the dorms. Ron and I were going back—I promise, we were doing what we were told—but we remembered that one of the Gryffindor girls was in the bathroom, and didn’t know about the troll, so we went back to tell her.

Except we ran into the troll on the way. It went into the bathroom and we went in to try to get her out. But she was so scared she couldn’t move. And Ron and I tried making noise to confuse it and that worked for a little bit, but not for long, and then it went after Ron. So I jumped on it and my wand got stuck in its nose. Then Ron used Wingardium Leviosa on its club and then dropped the club on its head and knocked it out.

After McGonagall scolded us, she gave us ten points. (Well, five, after you take out that she took five from Hermione, but it was still points.)

Ron, Hermione and I are all okay. It was a little scary and smelly (so smelly) but we are fine.

Do you know how to get rid of troll smell? Ron says my wand is fine, but I think there is still an odor every time I try to practice a spell.

Love,

Harry

——

Dear Harry,

Of course I will be at your Quidditch game. I’m very excited. Not nearly as excited as Sirius, but very excited.

And your parents did tell me something about the troll. They said they received a letter from PROFESSOR Dumbledore commending your bravery and quick thinking. I’m happy to share your version of events with them. I’m sure they will be sufficiently worried about you.

And I’m sure you heard it from PROFESSOR McGonagall, and I’m sure your parents will write to you again and tell you to be careful, but you’re still going to hear it from me.

BE CAREFUL.

Facing a troll is dangerous even for a skilled wizard. It’s a miracle none of you were hurt. You’re lucky you were able to knock it out. And for that, you and Ron were very smart for doing so. Never forget your rudimentary spells. A more experienced wizard might have tried a Stunning Charm, which would not work on a troll. But you were able to stun it more creatively with spells designed for other things.

Remember, never let your knowledge of spells stifle your creativity. It’s important to think outside the box, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There are often wards and protections against the common spells you would think to use, so keep working at unusual ways to solve problems. There is always more than one answer!

Again, congratulations, (on all of it, from Quidditch to the troll) and I will see you very soon!

With Love,

Uncle Remus

PS: Be very careful about cleaning your wand. Use no magic or potions. If you still can’t get the smell out, we can take it to Ollivander to take care of it so none of the magical properties in the core or wood are compromised.


	11. Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first Quidditch game of the season--against Slytherin--does not go very well....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY A REAL CHAPTER. I had a lot of fun writing this and it's setting up so many wonderful dynamics i didn't expect! Like the marauders not just raising Harry but actually developing relationships with the golden trio and the roles the marauders will play in the shenanigans the golden trio will get up to are finally solidifying in my mind this is fantastic. I really loved this chapter.

November meant Quidditch season. And of course the first match was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Harry was beginning to have a harder and harder time getting through meals the closer they approached to the game.

Even though Wood had tried to keep Harry’s position as their Seeker a secret, it had leaked out, as these things do at Hogwarts. His parents were encouraging, naturally. And Sirius was so confident he’d be brilliant. Of course Malfoy had his share of insults and predictions.

But thank Merlin for Hermione Granger. She wasn’t just on speaking terms with Ron and Harry, they were all actually friends now. There were somethings you just couldn’t do without becoming friends, and facing a mountain troll together was one of them.

She was brilliant at schoolwork and spells, and without her, Harry might never have made it through classes and the extra Quidditch practices. He also had Uncle Remus’s excellent letters detailing Defense Against the Dark Arts creatures, spells, and methods to keep him ahead in that class. He, Ron, and Hermione were Quirrell’s top students. Though Harry found it odd that Quirrell hardly mentioned it. Not that he wanted Quirrell fawning over them the way Snape fawned over Malfoy. But a little recognition would’ve been nice.

It was the night before the game, and Hermione was starting her Potions paper. She never let them copy, but if either had a wrong answer she gave them a full lecture on why they were wrong, in true Hermione fashion, so at least it was helpful (and wanted when they were doing homework).

“Potions isn’t due for a week!” Ron groaned when Hermione unrolled the parchment on the common room floor.

“I’m not going to start it the night before,” Hermione sniffed. “Professor Snape always grades hard.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of an ass—“

“He’s a professor!” Hermione said with a gasp.

Ron chuckled.

“D’you notice he was limping in class today?” Harry asked.

“Hope it hurts real bad,” Ron said with a small smile.

“Harry, stop,” she scolded.

“What? I didn’t say—“

“No—You’re… bouncing.”

“I am not.”

“You are, mate,” Ron agreed sheepishly. “And you keep moving. Bit nerve-wracking, actually.”

“Can’t help it I’ve got the biggest day of my life tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“It’s just Quidditch,” Hermione said.

“Just Quidditch?” Ron and Harry exclaimed at once.

“It’s also Gryffindor vs Slytherin,” Harry added, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt. “If we lose everyone will kill me.”

“No one is going to kill you for losing.”

“Not if I die on the Quidditch pitch first,” he mumbled. “Have you seen Slytherin’s Seeker?”

The burly seventh year was probably three times Harry's size. Any minor fouls the Slytherin Seeker might commit could send Harry right off his broom. He wasn't too thrilled about facing something like that.

\--- --- ---

The next morning, he was not feeling any better. He’d slept poorly, and he was not the least bit hungry. The students were all decked out in red and gold or green and silver. Even some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were showing support for their friends’ teams. 

Everyone else was just finishing up breakfast when there was an excited yell from the doors of the Great Hall.

“Harry!”

Harry perked up instantly. He knew that voice anywhere. “Sirius!” he shouted and ran to the door.

Sirius, Remus, and his parents had arrived to watch him play. He couldn’t be happier.

Each of them gave him a hug in turn and Harry grabbed a piece of toast before walking with them and his friends down to the Quidditch pitch.

“This is my friend Hermione Granger,” he introduced. “And this is Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. And you know Neville--" Neville waved shyly-- "Oh, and there’s Hagrid!” And soon there was a small group all decked out in red and gold escorting Harry to the Quidditch pitch. He felt lighter than he had all week, like he might take off without his broom. It seemed all he really needed to face a task like the biggest Quidditch game of his life was the support of his family and friends.

“Wood’ll be wondering if I’ve ditched,” he said when they finally reached the stands. “Better run.”

“You’ll be great,” Lily said.

“You don’t seem half as nervous as your dad was,” Remus laughed.

“I was not that nervous,” James protested and started following Sirius up the stairs.

“Boys,” Lily called, “Professors and parents up this side.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “Or we could sit in the Gryffindor stands. That’s where you’re sitting, aren’t you, Hagrid?”

“Aye. Bit more exciting up that way,” he smiled.

“See? Come on,” James laughed and grabbed her hand.

Sirius sat between Hagrid and James, with Lily on James’s other side. Hermione sat down between Lily and Remus, and on Remus’s left was Ron and Dean, then Seamus, and lastly Neville. They all squeezed together both because the stands were crowded for the rivalry game, and because it was very cold in the mid-November air. The banner Dean had painted for Harry stretched over all five of the students and Remus. Sirius complimented Dean’s artwork, and Remus congratulated Hermione on the excellent charm that allowed the paint to flash different colors.

“Why didn’t we think of anything like that?” James groaned.

“Next time, dear,” and Lily patted his arm.

James gave Sirius a wide grin. Sirius winked back.

Down in the locker room, Harry was putting on his red Quidditch robes. And now that he was alone, was back to being nervous. His fingers trembled as he tied the gold lacing.

Wood cleared his throat. “Okay, men.”

“And women,” Angelina Johnson said with a hint of offense in her voice.

“And women,” he conceded. “This is it.”

“The big one,” Fred said solemnly.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” George added with a dramatic flourish of his broom.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred whispered to Harry.

“Knock it off,” Wood scolded. “This is the best we’ve been in years.”

“It’s only been a year since we lost Charlie,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“And we’re even better than that,” Wood snapped. And the look on his face definitely said if they didn’t win today, it would be weeks more practice, even rougher than before. Harry felt his toast try to climb its way back up his throat.

“Alright,” Wood finally said, “Good luck, men. And women.”

Madam Hooch was refereeing the game and encouraged them to play fair. Harry was pretty sure his team needed that reminder as much as the Slytherins, especially when he saw the glint in Fred and George’s eyes.

When they were finally up in the air, he caught sight of the banner his friends had made him. His nerves eased a little, and he waved, but immediately went back to hunting for the Snitch.

Wood’s plan was to keep Harry out of the fray of the game and searching for the snitch from up high, which was fine with Harry, if only it wasn’t so small. He didn’t know how he was supposed to see it from so far away.

Lee Jordan was commenting on the game, though his comments were peppered by compliments to Angelina Johnson’s good looks and insults to Slytherin’s team. McGonagall scolded him for it, but really the Slytherins weren’t playing fair at all, at least not what Harry thought to be fair. They kept intentionally ramming the Gryffindor players, even when they didn't have the Quaffle. Even Harry, who was away from the real game, had to dodge a couple of Bludgers that had "accidentally" been aimed at him.

Gryffindor had scored, and Slytherin was about to, when the Snitch made its first appearance, zipping right past Slytherin’s Chaser and spooking him enough to make him drop the Quaffle.

Harry and Terrence Higgs dove for the snitch. The game seemed to be on pause as everyone watched the two Seekers go neck and neck for the Snitch. Harry had maybe an inch lead. He reached out—

Harry was nearly knocked off his broom by Slytherin Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint colliding with him. There was a lot of yelling as Harry righted his broom and the Gryffindors took a penalty shot. By the time the game had resumed, the Snitch was long gone.

Dean and Lily were both shouting for red cards.

“There are no red cards in Quidditch,” James mumbled under his breath. “Still, it was a dirty move.”

“They should at least send him out of the game for that,” Sirius said angrily. “Filthy Slytherin cheats.”

“At least Harry’s alright,” Remus said. “He’s a strong flier. And not throwing a fit the way James might’ve.”

Sirius and Lily found the comment rather funny. James did not.

Lee Jordan was (even more) biased in his commentary from then on, and McGonagall scolded him less for it.

Harry ducked under another Bludger, when suddenly his broom lurched beneath him. He’d been flying for his whole life and never experienced anything like that. Then suddenly his broom was jerking and zigzagging, and before he could do anything about it, his broom was out of control.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled.

“Feinting for the other Seeker?” Lily suggested.

“Looks more like he lost control of his broom,” James said with a tight jaw. “But that’s not possible.”

Harry’s broom had started doing barrel rolls, and with a wild jerk, threw Harry. He managed to hang onto the handle with one hand and was now dangling from his broom high above the stands.

Lily and James were on their feet instantly.

“We have to do something,” she said desperately.

“Could it have been Flint?” Seamus whispered.

“No,” Remus answered. “Takes some powerful dark magic to charm a broom like that.”

Hermione took the binoculars Lily left on the seat and started scanning the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Look at Snape,” she said and passed the binoculars to him.

Snape was sitting with the professors opposite them. His eyes were fixed on Harry and he was muttering nonstop.

“He’s doing something—jinxing the broom,” said Hermione.

“What do we do?”

“Leave it to me.”

“Miss Granger, I don’t think—“ Remus started, but Hermione was gone, leaving Ron and Remus next to an increasingly frantic Lily and James, who were shouting for Dumbledore or Madam Hooch or anyone to actually do something. Lily pulled her wand out, but Remus pulled her back.

“We don’t know what the hex is—Don’t risk making it worse.”

The only people who seemed to be doing anything were Fred and George, who tried to get close to help Harry on their broom. But Harry’s broom would only lift him higher, out of their reach. So instead the twins dropped down and stayed beneath him to catch him in case he fell.

Slytherin took the distraction as an opportunity to score a few times.

Hermione was running as quick as she could through the crowded stands. She accidentally knocked Professor Quirrell over, and with a quick spell, cast bright blue flames onto the hem of Snape’s robes. And as soon as Snape realized he was on fire, she scooped the blue flames into her pocket jar and disappeared as quickly as she’d come. But as Snape readjusted his robes and examined them, she noticed a very deep bite on his leg.

Up above the pitch, Harry clambered back onto his now still broom.

“Neville, you can look,” Ron said. Neville peered over Seamus’s shoulder, but Lily and James still refused to sit down.

And then suddenly Harry’s broom took a sharp dive. The entire crowd gasped. Lily and James both screamed.

But instead of colliding with the ground, Harry tumbled neatly and when he stood, he coughed something up into his hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!”

Lily and James sank back into their seats like their knees had gone weak. They didn’t even move as the rest of the crowd began to cheer their excitement at Gryffindor’s victory. Sirius patted James comfortingly on the back and Remus squeezed Lily’s hand.

\--- --- ---

Moments later, instead of celebrating with his house, Harry was shut up inside the Headmaster’s office. James and Sirius were shouting at Dumbledore, repeating Hermione’s accusations against Snape. Lily and Remus stood quietly next to Harry.

“I assure you,” Dumbledore said with a quiet and calm authority, “Severus would not have done this.”

“Hermione Granger saw him,” James repeated. “And it was only after she distracted him that the broom went back to normal.”

“I was trying to reverse the jinx,” Snape spat at them.

“Why would you do that for Harry?” Sirius snapped.

There was an uncomfortable pause and Snape’s eyes shifted between Lily and Dumbledore, before Dumbledore finally stood.

“We’ve had a rather exciting day. Quidditch always quickens the blood, doesn’t it? I think Harry could use a nice hot cup of tea.” And he smiled at Harry with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry nodded gratefully and Lily helped him to his feet. 

Ron and Hermione were waiting at the bottom of the stairs and said they’d all been invited to Hagrid’s, and Harry and the adults thought it was an excellent idea to take tea there, away from all the celebrating.

\--- --- ---

“I still think it was Snape,” Sirius said irritably as he took one of the mugs filled with tea. There weren’t enough tea cups to go around, so Sirius, Lily, and Hagrid were all taking their tea from a combination of heavy mugs or thick tankards.

“He has no reason to jinx Harry,” Remus sighed.

“Snape’s a professor. ‘E’s not about’ ter go around jinxin’ his students,” Hagrid said.

“Especially not Harry,” Lily said quietly.

“Or maybe especially Harry,” Sirius snapped back.

“Dumbledore trusts him,” James finally said. “That’s enough for me.”

Sirius did not seem appeased by this, and even when Remus whispered something quietly in his ear, Sirius only muttered something back with the same bitter and disgusted expression.

“But—“ Hermione started hesitantly, “—what happened to Professor Snape’s leg? He was limping—and it was bitten—“

“That proves it,” Harry said suddenly, “We saw Snape in the corridor on Halloween. He must’ve used the troll as a distraction to try to get whatever’s under the trap door, but got bit by the three-headed dog.”

“How’d you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid said.

“There’s actually a Cerberus in the school?” Remus said in astonishment. “That’s incredibly dangerous! What if a student finds it?”

“Seems like a student already did,” Lily said with a tight expression.

“What’s it doing here?” James asked Hagrid with raised eyebrows.

“Can’t answer that,” Hagrid said sheepishly and took a large gulp of his tea.

“I’d like to see it,” Sirius said and took a sip of his tea. “Sounds interesting.”

“They’re incredibly dangerous,” Remus said. “I can’t believe Dumbledore would just keep one in the school.”

“Fluffy lives in the Forbidden Forest usually,” Hagrid said, “and I take care o’ him, keep him away from the kids. And I asked Dumbledore, I said, ‘Dumbledore, are yeh sure it’s alright ter keep Fluffy in the castle?’ and Dumbledore said it’d be jus’ fine, that he’d make sure the corridor was off limits, and tha’ he only needed Fluffy fer a little while, tha’ he’d send him right back when he was done guardin’ the—“

Hagrid stopped suddenly and took another gulp of his tea.

“The what?” Harry and James asked simultaneously.

“It’s nothin—top secret Hogwarts business. Yer not to be known’, any of you.”

“But if Snape’s trying to steal it,” said Ron.

“Rubbish. Snape’s a Hogwarts professor—he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“Then why did he jinx Harry?” Hermione and Sirius asked at the same time.

“Severus did not jinx Harry,” Lily said quickly. “If he says he was protecting Harry, I believe him.”

“But someone was jinxing Harry,” said James.

“Who else could it have been except Snape?” Sirius said.

“I dun know why Harry’s broom acted like that,” Hagrid said, a hint of a temper in his voice, “but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all of yeh—“ he included Sirius and James in the glance as well (James suddenly remembered being sixteen, and nagging Hagrid about the rumor that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was actually a vampire, and they’d been met with the same temper), “yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel—“

“Who’s Nicolas Flamel?” Sirius and Harry asked at the same time.

Hagrid’s face was red, and no one was sure if it was anger or embarrassment. He hardly said two more words the rest of the afternoon, though Sirius, Harry, Hermione and James all asked inciting questions, first directly at Hagrid, then sort of generally, hoping he might answer. But Hagrid gave them no more information, and as they trudged back up to the castle, Harry relayed his theory about the package from his birthday to his parents. Sirius seemed interested, Lily and Remus both told him to stop investigating, and James only said, “as long as you leave Professor Snape out of it.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gave their word they would stay out of trouble and not slander any teachers (“prematurely,” Harry added, and Lily gave him a stern glare).

They all exchanged hugs—even Hermione got a hug from Sirius and James; Lily, and Remus shook her hand and expressed that meeting her was a pleasure—before Remus, Sirius, James, and Lily all went back up to Dumbledore’s office.

“Hermione, where are you going?” Ron asked, as he and Harry headed upstairs, and she started going down.

“The library, of course.”

“On a Saturday?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I want to find out who Nicolas Flamel is. Don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE ME SUGGESTIONS FOR HOW TO HANDLE THE MIRROR OF ERISED IF HARRY GOES HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.


	12. The Mirror of Erised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron, and Hermione discover the Mirror of Erised; Harry and Ron go to the Potter's for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY about the delay on this guys. I've literally been working on it so painstakingly slowly. First I was all hung up about the discovery of the mirror, and of course changing what was in it. There were a lot of issues. And then on top of it I now have a third job so my life has been hectic as fuck. The only reason I had time to sit down and write today is because I got sent home from work early and now I'm rushing to post it before I run off to my next job. So enjoy because I put a lot of work into it, but also it's a bit rushed so some grace is appreciated~

Dear Mum and Dad,

Ron’s parents are going to Romania to see Charlie for Christmas. Can Ron come home with me for Christmas? I don’t want to leave him at Hogwarts all by himself.

Love,

Harry

——

Dear Harry,

Ron is welcome to spend Christmas with us. But you must also invite Fred, George, and Percy to stay with us as well. I know Ron is your best friend but they are family friends, and they are welcome to join us.

Love,

Mum and Dad

——

Ron closed the book with a thud that echoed in the not just quiet but absolutely empty library. Empty except for three first years at a table piled with books.

Harry also closed his and looked at Hermione, still thoroughly engrossed in her book (though it was more of a tome than a book).

“There’s got to be an easier way of finding Nicolas Flamel than spending the last day of term before Christmas in the library,” Ron said.

“Why don’t you just ask Professor Dumbledore who Nicolas Flamel is, then?” Hermione said hotly. Harry knew she was as irritated that their search hadn’t yielded any clues as he and Ron were.

“What if,” Harry started slowly, putting words to a thought he hadn’t dare voice yet, “we go into the trapdoor and see for ourselves what’s down there?”

“Are you mad?” Ron asked. “There’s a head for each of us on that dog.”

“Uncle Remus said you can put it to sleep if you play a bit of music.”

“We could get expelled for that, Harry. It’s a miracle we weren’t caught the first time.”

“We haven’t been caught yet. I bet we could do it.”

“Sure, let me just dig out my Great-Aunt Tessie’s bag pipes and we’ll play a soft lullaby for the thing,” Ron snorted.

“I’m sure there are charms for music.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Of course there are,” Hermione said. “But that doesn’t mean this is a good idea.”

——

“This is a terrible idea,” Hermione hissed for the seventh time that hour.

Harry just shrugged his shoulders this time and carefully peered around the corner of the third floor corridor, double checking that neither Filch nor Mrs. Norris were guarding it.

Harry held his wand over the lock, ready to use the spell Hermione had cast last time to open it. He looked at Hermione. “Are you ready?”

Hermione tightened her hand on her wand and nodded stiffly.

“I’m going to open the door. And you’re going to say the spell. What’s the spell?”

“Harmonium Concordia.”

Harry nodded, then whispered, “ _Alohamora_.” He pushed open the door and the three children were greeted by a snarling beast. When Hermione’s musical spell didn’t immediately follow, Harry started to panic. He looked at Hermione, who was frozen, just like when they’d fought the troll. Her mouth was open, and it was obvious she wasn’t thinking about casting a spell at all.

“ _Harmoniam Concordian!_ ” Ron tried, but the only sound was that of a deflating accordion.

“ _Harmonium Concordia!_ ” Harry tried, and there were a few notes of gentle music. The cerberus tilted its head at Harry, ears beginning to droop, but the spell didn’t last long, and the dog was coming out of its brief period of drowsiness.

Before it could recover enough to bite their heads off, Harry and Ron each grabbed one of Hermione’s arms and ran.

The ran as long as they could, putting as much space between them and the loud snarling as possible, hoping they wouldn’t run into Filch or Mrs. Norris along the way.

They finally stopped inside a small, unused classroom, and as soon as he had his breath back, Ron rounded on Hermione.

“What was that? Why didn’t you do the spell? Do you want to get eaten?”

Hermione was red in the face, but Harry wasn’t sure if she was ashamed, angry, or just winded.

“We shouldn’t have been out there anyway,” she snapped. “It’s after hours and the corridor is forbidden, and it’s dangerous!”

“It wouldn’t have been dangerous if you’d said the spell! At least Harry remembered it well enough to buy us time. Harry—Harry, what are you looking at?”

Harry had lost interest in the argument and was much more intrigued by the large, ornate mirror that stretched almost to the ceiling. He had to squint in the darkness to read the inscription on top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

He stepped closer to see his reflection and was shocked to see his parents in the reflection as well. “What is this mirror?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

Hermione tried to read the inscription on top out loud, but the words were difficult to pronounce. “I’ve never heard of that language,” she said.

“Maybe it’s mirror language,” Ron laughed. “You wouldn’t know about those.”

“Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire?” Harry tried.

“Art’s desire?” Ron snorted. “What does that mean? Who’s Art?”

“Does it show your family then?” Harry asked, tilting his head at the reflection of his smiling parents. And then Uncle Remus and Sirius were there too, and it was like everyone was laughing at something, even Harry’s reflection, though Harry himself looked puzzled.

Harry stepped away so Ron could look in the mirror.

“Hope it doesn’t show my brothers. I see them way too—Whoa! I’m all tall and older. I’m Head Boy! And—that’s the Quidditch cup! And I’m Quidditch Captain! D’you think this mirror shows the future?”

“How can it?” scoffed Hermione. “You’ll never make Head Boy with all the rules you break.”

“I can too,” Ron said back sharply. “Well, go on, what do you see Hermione?”

Hermione stood in front of the mirror but said nothing.

“Well, what do you see?” Harry asked.

“Just me,” she said, in a very flat voice, that reminded Harry of the voice she’d used when Ron made the comment that she hadn’t any friends.

“Mine didn’t show anything different either, just my family. And Sirius and Uncle Remus.” Harry shrugged.

“Let me see again,” Ron begged, and gently pushed Hermione aside. “D’you think I’ll really be Quidditch Captain?”

Harry took another turn in front of the mirror and squinted at his reflection, who winked back at him. He looked up at his parents' happy faces and tried to think about what was different. He scratched his head and—oh. He had no scar. Something ached in his chest suddenly and he stepped away from the mirror.

“Let’s go back before Filch finds us,” he said, voice a little glum.

“One more time,” Ron said, and stepped in front of the mirror. He turned, taking in his full reflection from all angles, the nodded firmly, and skipped after Hermione and Harry.

Back in the Common Room, Ron disappeared to bed, a content smile on his face. Harry and Hermione paused on the stairs.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?” Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated, and finally gave a slow, halting answer. “I just saw me. And you. And Ron. And Dean and Lavender and Parvati and everyone in Gryffindor.”

“And we were all friends?”

Hermione nodded. “What did you see?”

“My family. They were happy. I mean, they’re always happy but they were… happier. Do you ever get the feeling like your parents are scared of the future, and you don’t understand why, but you think it’s your fault?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever your parents are afraid of isn’t your fault. They probably just worry about you because they love you.”

“Yeah. And Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“You have friends. Ron and I are your friends.”

It was dim in the stairwell, but Harry thought he saw tears in her eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” And she disappeared into the girl’s dormitory.

——

Christmas at the Potters was usually a noisy affair, and with four extra boys, this year's wasn’t any quieter.

Lily and James went a bit overboard with the Christmas decorating. “We didn’t have anything else to do,” she said with a small, slightly embarrassed smile, when the boys looked around in awe.

“Mum, did you hang my stocking?” Harry asked as he set Hedwig in his room. There was an extra bed—he’d be sharing with Ron. Fred, George, and Percy would be sharing a room just across from them.

“It’s right here,” Lily gestured to his dresser. “And your Mum had yours sent over by owl last night,” she smiled at Ron.

Harry quickly grabbed his stocking and looped the edge over the tack. It was a bright red stocking, with soft white snow for trim. “You added stars!”

“I thought a little gold wouldn’t hurt, in honor of your sorting,” Lily said with a smile.

The gold stars on his stocking twinkled like they were real stars in a red sky and Harry looked over to Ron. “Well, hang yours too!”

Ron looked a little uncomfortable as he put his patched stocking up next to Harry’s. But Harry didn’t pay any attention to it's state of disrepair and went to see Fred and George’s stockings.

Fred and George were wrestling over theirs, arguing over whose was whose, until Percy said very sharply that they were embarrassing him, at which point they increased the volume of the argument to the point where James came down from the attic, glasses pushed up into his wild hair, and a box of red and gold ribbon held precariously in one hand.

“Everyone alright in here?”

“Fine,” the twins grinned, traded parcels, and hung their stockings.

Lily levitated the box from James with her wand and carefully set it down at the base of the stairs.

“Too much time with Sirius,” he laughed, fished his wand out of his pocket, and began weaving the red and gold ribbon along the banister of the stairwell.

“We thought with a house full of Gryffindors, it might be fun to decorate in style,” Lily said, and the boys followed her into the kitchen, where she had fresh scones and tea ready.

“I used Molly’s recipe but I’m not sure it came out as well as she would have been able to do,” she said.

Percy thanked her and said they were perfect.

Fred and George said, “Thanks!” with their mouths full of three scones each.

Ron nibbled on one with a polite, “Thank you.”

“Mum, you really ought to practice it more first,” Harry said and shook his head. “But they’re better then your usual ones.”

This earned him a kiss on the forehead and a flattening of his hair. “You’re growing too much like your father.”

“I’ve never once insulted your cooking!” James shouted from the hall.

“Remus tells me what you say behind my back.”

“I knew your tea dates with Moony made me uncomfortable,” James said as he walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. Lily gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and popped a scone into his mouth.

Fred and George exchanged an odd look, but Harry had no idea what it could have meant.

\--- --- ---

Remus and Sirius came over just after tea to help with dinner. Everyone was busy in the kitchen. Even Percy, Fred, George, and Ron were put to work, and by evening a large feast was on the table.

“Nearly as good as a Hogwarts feast,” James said proudly as he surveyed the table.

“Though I do miss Dumbledore’s flower bonnet,” Sirius said with a sigh as he charmed a toy train to circle in-between the turkey and the gravy bowl.

“And catching McGonagall with one too many glasses of wine,” Remus grinned.

Harry listened quietly and thought that maybe next year he’d stay at Hogwarts. At least once. But he quickly forgot in the excitement of opening Christmas crackers, with fireworks and bangs and smoke all inside.

They went to bed late, full and content. And in the morning there were presents ready at the foot of their beds.

“Wha’d you get?” Harry asked excitedly.

Ron looked over his presents sleepily. “The usual, I guess.” He pulled out a lumpy package. “This must be the sweater from Mum.” He opened it, face rather gloomy for Christmas morning. “Maroon, as always.” He looked over at Harry’s pile. “Oh, no. Looks like you’ve got one from her too.”

Harry grabbed a package wrapped in green tissue and tore it open. It was a bright green sweater. He thought it rather nice, actually, and far better than anything his Mum could knit. He pulled it on over his head and opened the rest of his presents.

From Uncle Remus, he got a large package of chocolate frogs. From Sirius, he received a new set of Quidditch gear, which he was grateful for. His old ones were getting a bit small. And from his parents, he got a wizard chess set. That gift rather puzzled him.

“I didn’t tell Mum and Dad you were teaching me,” Harry said.

“I might’ve written it to Mum. She must’ve told them,” Ron said, a little pink. “I know you don’t get on with Seamus’s. With your own you’ll be able to learn better.”

“Well, thanks, mate,” Harry grinned. “It’s as good as if you gave it to me.”

Ron was more than pink at that.

Lily called them down for breakfast, and all boys came downstairs in their sweaters—though Percy’s arms were not quite through the sleeves; the twins had shoved it over his head and he had to adjust it himself to be able to eat breakfast.

“Your sweaters all look lovely,” Lily said with a smile.

“’Specially Harry’s,” said Fred. “She puts an effort into it if you’re not family.”

“And she has to put letters on ours,” George said with a frown. “Thinks we’ll forget if we don’t, I s’pose.”

“But we won’t. We know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

Sirius snorted and James laughed into his napkin.

Breakfast was as cheery and wonderful as dinner had been. Everyone ate their fill and the rest of the day was spent lazing about in the living room. Harry thought about trying out his new Quidditch gear, but he didn’t have the energy. He and Ron would have to play the day after.

After dinner, when everyone was on their way up to bed, James called Harry aside.

“Harry—can I talk to you in the study?”

Lily glanced at him, but James only smiled innocently as he took Harry into the study room beside the master bedroom. Harry had only been in here a few times—it hadn’t held much interest for him as a child. Though now, his eyes roved over all the books and he thought maybe he could find Nicolas Flamel in here.

James opened up a drawer on his desk and pulled out a package. “This gift has been in our family for many generations. My father gave it to me when I was about your age, and I think it’s time to give it to you.”

Harry pulled the wrapping off the package and a cool, silvery fabric that shimmered in the dim light fell into his hand.

“Put it on.”

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders, not really sure what it was meant to do. Then he turned and looked in the mirror and gasped. Only his head was floating at its usual height, but no body was attached. He pulled the hood over his head and disappeared completely.

“This is amazing!” Harry grinned.

“I know you’re a little prone to getting into trouble, so please use this well. Don’t be stupid with it, like I was.”

“I haven’t gotten a single detention,” Harry protested.

“And your mum and I are so proud of you. We just want you to keep doing your best.”

“Of course.”

“Alright, off to bed.”

Harry practically ran to his room and shook Ron’s bed. “Ron! Ron you’ll never guess!”

“Calm down, mate, I wasn’t even asleep. No need to shout. What’s the matter?” he yawned.

“Look!” and Harry threw the cloak over his shoulders.

“Whoa! That’s incredible! Where’d you—“

“My dad gave it to me for Christmas. Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s great! I wonder how he got it. They’re supposed to be really rare.”

“Family heirloom I guess.”

“Wish we had something like that. Instead I get to inherit a weasel,” he said with a frown.

Harry dug into his box of chocolate frogs and tossed it to Ron.

“Thanks.” Ron grabbed at the frog before it could jump off his pillow, and while chewing it looked at the card. “Aw, another Dumbledore. You want it?”

Harry reached over and took the card, even though he had nearly two dozen of Dumbledore. He was far more interested in looking at the picture and trying to see if he could imagine Dumbledore in a flower bonnet.

“Nicolas Flamel!” he said suddenly.

“What? Oh, yeah, we could use the cloak to look in the restricted section.”

“No, look,” Harry said and showed the card to Ron. “Nicolas Flamel is right here—his work with Dumbledore on alchemy.”

“Oh! Wait’ll Hermione hears about this. At least reading about alchemy will be more interesting than Witches and Wizards of the 20th century.”

“Hope so,” Harry agreed, and tucked the collectible card into his trunk. Somehow, the card mattered more than all the other cards. Even though all the other cards were the same, and said the same information, this one came with the discovery of a long-searched for answer. And, it had shown him Dumbledore in a flower bonnet.


	13. Nicolas Flamel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and Hermione know what is hiding under the trapdoor. And they know Snape's after it.

Hermione replied to their letter with a detailed description of Nicolas Flamel and the Philosophers Stone. How he invented the Elixir of Life, and the stone could produce it. Harry and Ron agreed that the Philosopher's Stone was definitely what Fluffy was guarding, and that Snape was trying to steal it. They also agreed that the only adult it was safe to share this with was Sirius, but Harry cautioned against it, knowing Sirius had a hard time keeping secrets from James and Remus.

“He told my parents about our duel with Malfoy. I know he’d tell them about this,” Harry said, and so Harry and Ron and Hermione remained the only ones who knew.

Harry spent the rest of his Christmas break outside with Ron, Fred, and George. They organized a handful of Quidditch scrimmages between the four of them. Though, with two players on the team, you couldn’t have much more than a Quaffle and a Bludger. For at least two games, however, they managed to drag Sirius and James out with them, which meant they could play with a snitch. The first game was Potters (Sirius included) against Weasleys. Harry played Seeker opposite Fred, Sirius was Beater opposite Geoege, and James the Chaser against Ron. Everyone filled in the role of Keeper. The Potters won by a mile, and Ron complained the teams were very unfair, so it was switched to adults against children, and Lily joined the adults to even the odds a little. But she wasn’t much help, and Harry and the Weasley brothers easily won.

“You’re pretty quick on that Nimbus 2000,” Sirius said to Harry with a clap on the shoulder. Can’t wait to go to your next Quidditch match.”

“Against Hufflepuff,” Fred shrugged. “Easy-peasy.”

That match would not turn out to be easy-peasy, as Fred suggested.

Back at school, after a very wet practice session, Oliver Wood informed them that they better be on their best game because Snape would be refereeing, and if they screwed up, they wouldn’t be able to beat out Slytherin in points.

Harry knew that for Snape, it couldn’t just be about points. He knew that Sirius still didn’t trust that Snape was innocent in the match against Slytherin back in November, and he agreed. Snape certainly did seem to have it out for him.

“Don’t play,” Hermione said as soon as he passed the information on to her and Ron.

“Say you’re ill,” said Ron.

“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested.

“Really break your leg,” said Ron.

“I can’t,” said Harry. “There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out, we can’t play at all.”

Before anyone could suggest another plan, Neville Longbottom toppled into the common room. His legs were stuck together with a Leg-Locker curse. He must’ve hopped all the way up the stairs to the tower.

Everyone in the common room found this hilarious, except Hermione, who immediately stood and performed the counter curse.

“What happened?” she asked gently and led him over to where her, Harry, and Ron were sitting.

“Malfoy,” Neville said, still shaking. “I met him outside the library. He said he’d been looking for someone to practice that on.”

“Tell Professor McGonagall!” Hermione said. “Report him!”

Neville shook his head. “I don’t want more trouble.”

Ron, for once, was on Hermione’s side. “You have to stand up to him. He’s used to walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.”

“I already know I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor—“

“Don’t say that,” Harry said encouragingly and squeezed Neville’s shoulder. “You’re worth twelve of Malfoy. We’re all here because the Sorting Hat put us here—“ Though he felt a like that was a bit of a lie in his case—“and if we weren’t meant to be in Gryffindor, well we just wouldn’t be. It put Malfoy in Slytherin, so it must know what its doing.”

Neville sniffled a bit and rubbed his eye. “Thanks, Harry. You’re always good at that stuff.”

Harry looked puzzled, but Neville said good night and went to bed, so Harry couldn’t ask what he meant.

\--- --- ---

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus all came to the Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor game. They sat with Ron and Hermione and Neville.

“Snape’s refereeing?” Sirius said as the teams walked onto the pitch. “Are you kidding? After Harry’s last game?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lily said sharply. “I’d rather him on the pitch than any other teacher.”

“Besides, Dumbledore’s here, too,” James said and nudged Sirius’s shoulder.

“He does look especially angry about that,” Ron whispered to Hermione. “And they’re off—Ouch!”

He whipped around to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle behind them.

“Sorry, Weasley. Didn’t see you there,” Malfoy said with a cheeky grin. “We’re taking bets on how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom. What do you think? I mean, if you had any money to bet, what do you think?”

Sirius glanced around at Ron, looking for permission to interfere, but Ron and Hermione both shook their heads ever so slightly. They turned their attention to Snape and Harry, making sure that nothing was going to go wrong.

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” Malfoy said loudly. “It’s the people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no talent. Then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money—You should be on the team, Longbottom. You’ve got no brains.”

“I—I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” Neville stuttered.

They laughed at him, but Ron said, without looking away from the match, “You tell ‘im, Neville.”

“Longbottom, if brains were gold, you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”

Now James, Lily, Sirius and Remus had all taken their eyes off the match to watch Ron and Malfoy. James was tense, but Lily had a tight grip on his arm, practically holding him to the seat.

“Harry!” Hermione suddenly shouted, turning everyone back to the game.

Harry was diving towards the ground. Hermione, Lily and James were all on their feet, anxiously waiting for Harry to pull out of his sharp descent.

“You’re in luck, Weasley. Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” Malfoy laughed.

Ron’s temper snapped and he whirled around to tackle Malfoy, but Remus Lupin was suddenly between them.

“Draco Malfoy, why don’t we take a walk?”

Draco looked frightened for only a half second before sneering, “You’re not a teacher. I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”

“Then I’ll just report to Dumbledore the incident that happened here, hm? Or we can take a short walk back to the castle and your teachers will remain none the wiser.”

Reluctantly, Malfoy followed Remus Lupin out of the Quidditch stands while everyone else was celebrating Harry’s quick catch of the Snitch and Gryffindor’s victory, placing them in the lead over Slytherin.

\--- --- ---

Harry went to return his broom stick after all the celebrating had died down, knowing it would only be continued in common rooms over tea and food nicked from the kitchens.

But when Harry reached the broom shed, he saw Snape hurrying down to the Forbidden Forest. That seemed suspicious enough to follow. So Harry hopped back on his broom and took off.

Snape stopped in a shadowy clearing, where Quirrell was already waiting.

“… d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…” The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stammered.

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private. Students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone, after all.”

Harry leaned closer, but he couldn’t make out Quirrell’s mumbling.

“Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-b-but Severus, I—“

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, and he took an aggressive step closer to Quirrell.

“I-I don’t know what you—“

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell, but he steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, “—your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.”

“B-but I d-d-don’t—“

“Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie.”

Snape quickly left, cloak over his head. Quirrell remained petrified in the clearing.

Harry returned his broom, thinking now might be the best time to tell an adult how sure he, Ron, and Hermione were about Snape stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, and that he was trying to coerce Quirrell into doing it for him.

When he was walking back up to the castle, he ran into Uncle Remus and Malfoy.

“Harry,” Uncle Remus said with a surprised smile. “What are you doing all the way out here? I thought you’d be back celebrating by now.”

“Just—put my broom away.” Harry looked curiously between the two, wondering what had happened to make Malfoy look so sullen, and why was he with Uncle Remus, of all people?

“Ah, well we’d best get back on up to the castle, shouldn’t we? Your parents must be waiting.”

The three walked in a sort of awkward silence, peppered by polite questions from Remus Lupin about their school year and what classes they liked. Harry had already answered most of these questions for Remus, and Draco’s were short, one-worded answers.

When they reached the castle, Draco went down to his common room in the dungeons, and Harry walked Remus to the Headmaster’s office, where James, Sirius, and Lily were waiting.

“Where have you been?” Lily asked, worry on her face. “And Harry, shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

“Oh, I walked back with Remus.” He suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he should tell them what he’d seen between Snape and Quirrell in front of Dumbledore. Dumbledore seemed to trust Snape for reasons Harry couldn’t understand. Maybe he should put it in a letter to Sirius later.

Then again, when he caught Ron and Hermione in a quiet corner later, and told them what he’d seen, Ron made him think he really shouldn’t wait to tell Sirius in a letter.

“If it’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape,” Ron sighed, “It’ll be gone by next Tuesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have to teach over Thanksgiving break, just work at my retail job a couple of days so I'm hoping to finish out the Philosopher's Stone by Christmas and get started on Chamber of Secrets before New Years <3 I'm always happy to read your comments and headcanons! Thank you all.


	14. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is at a loss to protect the stone; Hagrid makes a new friend.

Dear Sirius,

We figured out the Cerberus is guarding the Philosopher’s Stone and Snape is after it. We saw him confront Professor Quirrell about helping him get the stone. But Dumbledore trusts Snape so what do we do?

Love,

Harry

——

Dear Sirius,

Dumbledore called us to his office to tell us everything was fine and Snape was trustworthy and the stone is safe. He said all the teachers have placed a guard over it, and Snape would never steal the stone. I even told him I saw Snape confront Professor Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, but he only said things look different between dusk and dawn, whatever that means.

Love,

Harry

P.S. Hagrid’s got a dragon.

——

Dear Harry,

I told your father what you told me in your first letter. He told your mum and they decided to write to Dumbledore. Your mum and Snape were friends in school, and your father trusts Dumbledore with his life, so its no wonder they believe him about Snape. But I still think you’re onto something. Snape’s never been a good sort of person.

Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, so good for him. What sort is it?

Love,

Sirius

——

Dear Sirius

Norbert is a Norwegian Ridgeback. Hagrid’s the worst sort of mother. The dragon could burn the school down and Hagrid wouldn’t care. We finally convinced him to let Norbert go. Charlie’s got some friends wiling to smuggle Norbert out. We’re meeting them at midnight at the top of the astronomy tower. Don’t worry, I’ve got Dad’s Cloak.

Love,

Harry

——

Draco Malfoy,

I hope your second term is progressing well. You’ve still got a ways before exams, but it never hurts to start prepping now. If I remember correctly, you should be studying Doxies and Bowtruckles. Not the most dangerous of creatures, but they are fascinating.

Have you gotten to Hags yet? Their position as “Beings” or “Beasts” is up for debate in the Ministry next week. I imagine your father will be one of the people voting on it. Fascinating topic of conversation. Has your professor mentioned anything about classification?

I remember you said Potions was your favorite subject. I confess I wasn’t very good at it, but when I went to school with Professor Snape, he was a very skilled potions maker. I’m sure he’s an excellent teacher.

Feel free to write at your convenience.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin

——

Dear Mr. Lupin,

Did you know Harry Potter has a dragon?

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like MOST of the rest of the book will be letters, with scattered dialogue. It's about 75% complete right now, so it should be finished by Christmas, as promised.
> 
> As always, comments and headcanons appreciated!


	15. The Forbidden Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Draco serve their detention with Hagrid.

Dear Sirius,

We got caught. Malfoy knew about us and ratted us out to McGonagall. Now Hermione, Neville, and me and Malfoy all have detention. I’ll have to tell Mum and Dad. I can’t believe we left the cloak at the top of the tower! And we lost Gryffindor 150 points! That’s everything I won in the Quidditch match. We’re in last place again. And there isn’t any time to catch up. I can’t believe McGonagall would do this to her own house. No one will even talk to me, Hermione, and Neville.

If I live through detention, I’ll write you again.

Love, Harry.

\--- --- ---

The Forbidden Forest was as terrifying as expected, with tall dark looming trees that groaned in the wind as if invisible spectres wove their way between branches. Neville clung tightly to Harry’s robe as they approached the edge with Hagrid.

“I’m not going in there,” Draco protested. Harry was pleased to hear how terrified he was.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said.

“But this is servant stuff! I thought we’d be copying lines or—“

“I would much rather explore a forest than copy lines,” Harry said cheerfully. He didn’t feel particularly brave, but he fed on Malfoy’s fear and turned it into his own pride.

Hagrid led them deep along the path. “Right then. Now listen, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He knelt down, just off the path, and held his lantern high so all the children could see.

“Look there. See that stuff shinin’ on the ground? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in here bin hurt badly by summit. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Malfoy asked.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang. An’ keep ter the path.”

The trail of silver unicorn blood led in two different directions. Hagrid took Hermione and Harry with him, and sent Fang with Neville and Draco.

Harry didn’t know a lot about unicorns, but Uncle Remus spoke of them very reverently when they were brought up. He knew it was unspeakable to hurt something so precious and valuable, but he also knew it was difficult to even get a hold of one. Whatever they were hunting had to be deadly.

Hagrid suddenly pulled Harry and Hermione from the path and behind an oak tree. He had his crossbow ready to fire. There was the sound of something slithering in the dead leaves, and Harry suddenly remembered the snake from last summer. And then he thought of a cloak trailing in the dirt.

“There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.”

“No full moon so it isn’t a werewolf,” Harry whispered.

“You can see the moon?” Hermione whispered back, squinting up at the thick growth of tree branches.

“No werewolf and no unicorn,” Hagrid frowned. “Right, follow me, but careful now.”

Their footsteps were slower now, and they strained their ears for any unusual sounds in the forest. Suddenly, there was movement in the clearing ahead.

But it was no monster that emerged—a Centaur, in fact. Harry remembered a conversation he overheard in the kitchen between Uncle Remus and Lily about the classification of Centaurs as Beasts or Beings. He couldn’t remember where the Ministry stood on that.

This particular Centaur was chestnut with red hair and tail.

“Just you, Ronan.” Hagrid lowered his crossbow. “How are yeh?”

Hagrid and Ronan shook hands. Harry was shocked to see they were nearly eye-level with each other.

“Were you going to shoot me?” Ronan’s voice was deep and heavy. It reminded Harry of the one Christmas morning he’d woken up before the sunrise, before the rest of his family, and found Sirius brooding in front of the fireplace without having slept at all.

“Can’t be too careful,” Hagrid patted his crossbow. “There’s summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an’ Hermione Granger. Students up at the school. An’ you two, this is Ronan. He’s a centaur.”

“We noticed.” Hermione’s voice was distant, almost breathless.

Ronan nodded his head to Harry and Hermione. “Students? And you learn much, up at the school?”

“Yessir,” Harry answered.

Ronan grunted and looked up at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

In the clearing they could see the waxing moon, a bright star right next to it, and a brighter redder further off.

“Listen,” Hagrid said, “I’m gad we’ve run inter yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt—you seen anythin’?”

Ronan paused a long moment then finally said, “Always the innocent are the first victims. So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

“Yeh, but have yeh seen anythin’ Ronan? Anythin’ unusual?”

“Mars is bright tonight. Unusually bright.”

They were joined by a second centaur. This one bigger, with dark hair and a tail.

“Hullo, Bane. Look, I’ve jus’ bin asking’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? There’s a unicorn bin injured—would yeh know anythin’ about it?”

Bane looked over the small group, then joined Ronan in gazing at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

“We’ve heard,” grunted Hagrid. “Well, if either of you see anythin’ let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.”

Harry and Hermione followed Hagrid back to the path and away from the centaurs.

“Never try an’ get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.”

“Are there many of them in here?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, a fair few. Keep to themselves mostly, but they’re good enough about turning’ up if I ever want a word. They’re deep, mind, centaurs. They know things, jus’ don’ let on much.”

“Maybe it was a centaur we heard earlier,” Harry suggested, though knew it was a foolish hope.

“Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s bin killin’ the unicorns—never heard anythin’ like it before.”

They kept walking. Harry couldn’t shake the nasty feeling they were being watched. Suddenly Hermione pointed towards a bend in the path just ahead of them.

“Hagrid! Look! Red sparks! The others are in trouble!”

“Wait here on the path,” Hagrid said and went crashing through the forest.

“You don’t think they’re hurt, do you?” Herminoe whispered and clung to Harry’s arm.

Harry squeezed her arm right back. “I hope Neville’s alright. It’s our fault he’s here in the first place. But as for Malfoy….”

The wait was longer than they could count and every sound was louder than usual and far more terrifying.

Finally, Hagrid’s heavy footfalls came back in their direction, with Malfoy, Neville, and Fang behind him.

Apparently, Malfoy had thought it a funny joke to scare Neville. Neville panicked and sent up the sparks. So Hagrid sent Harry off with Fang and Malfoy, and kept Neville and Hermione with him. Now it was starting to feel like a detention to Harry.

Harry held the lantern and Draco held onto Fang. The path seemed to disappear in the thickness of the woods, but the trail of silver blood got thicker too, so they kept pushing on. 

There was a thick, gnarled oak, splashed in unicorn blood. Harry swallowed down his fear and whispered, “Uncle Remus said its one of the worst evils to kill a unicorn.”

“If it’s a unicorn, it's probably not—“ But Draco stopped because on just the other side of the tree was the unicorn, collapsed in the leaves. It was impossibly white and bright in the dark forest, but it wasn’t moving. No heavy heaving or nostrils flaring—it was dead.

That slithering sound Harry heard before transfixed both Draco and Harry. They stared into the darkness, where leaves quivered, until a hooded figure crawled out. Shaped like a man, but slinking close to the ground like a predator approaching its prey. And then the figure reached the unicorn, dipped its head down, and drank from the wound.

Draco screamed and ran. Fang followed. Harry still couldn’t seem to move.

And then the figure looked up at Harry, unicorn blood smeared down its cloak and dripping from a grotesquely shaped mouth.

Pain shot through his scar, like the lightning bolt was on fire. His vision went white with pain and he finally moved, but only to stagger backwards, groping for the old oak they’d passed. His hand slipped in unicorn blood and he fell into the dirt.

There was the sound of hooves galloping and something jumped clean over him. He imagined it was a unicorn, coming to avenge its brother, but that was as far as the thought went, because everything else was too much to conjure against the pain.

A minute or two passed before Harry could stand. When he opened his eyes the figure was gone, and a centaur was standing over him. This one was younger than Ronan or Bane, with white blonde hair.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes—Thank you—What was that?” Harry let the centaur pull him up.

The centaur did not answer Harry’s question, and instead lingered his gaze on the scar across Harry’s forehead. “You are the Potter boy. You had better get back to Hagrid.”

The centaur, who introduced himself as Firenze, knelt down onto his front legs so Harry could climb on.

Before they could get back to Hagrid, Bane and Ronan rushed into the clearing.

“Firenze!” Bane shouted at him. “Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

“This is the Potter boy,” Firenze said. “The quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”

“Remember,” growled Bane, “we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

Ronan intervened, “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.”

“For the best?” Bane bucked and kicked back with his hind legs. “What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Then Firenze reared up and Harry clung tightly to his mane.

“Do you see that unicorn?” Firenze was shouting now, in a deep voice Harry could hear rumbling from deep beneath where he was seated. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, and yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

And then Firenze galloped off into the woods with a swish of his tail that Sirius would’ve been proud of. Harry hung on tightly—it was far more difficult than riding a broom.

Harry turned the conversation over between Firenze and Bane in his head. He thought about the whispered conversations between his parents long after he was supposed to be asleep. Familiar words like destiny and fate pulled together, but Harry didn’t know what it had to do with the unicorn.

“Do you know what unicorn blood is used for, Harry Potter?” Firenze asked when they slowed down.

“No. Uncle Remus said it’s unspeakable to kill a unicorn.”

“He is correct. Only one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

“If you’re going to be cursed forever, death is better, isn’t it?”

“Unless,” Firenze said slowly, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power—something that will mean you can never die.”

“The Elixir of Life—the Sorcerer’s Stone,” Harry said with a breath of awe. But that wouldn’t be Snape. “Who would—“

“Can you think of no one who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

Harry thought again to the conversations of fate and destiny. To the night of his eleventh birthday, when his family sat down and told him the story, to Sirius saying, “Some think he died. Some think he’s still out there,” and his mother’s warning, “Most of us think he’s waiting until he’s powerful enough to come back. And he’ll come for you when he does.”

And the why still burned furiously in his chest. The why that his parents had vaguely answered with being a half-blooded wizard.

“So—that cloaked figure—was Vol—“

“Harry! Are yeh alright?” Hagrid was thundering towards him, Hermione miraculously keeping pace. Neville and Draco trailed behind.

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione helped him down from Firenze.

“I’m fine,” he said, still very dazed with both the trauma of the event and the realization of what had happened. “Hagrid—the unicorn is back in that clearing—it’s dead.”

“And this is where I leave you,” Firenze said, watching Hagrid hurry towards the clearing. “Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

Harry felt cold in his bones as Hagrid led all four of them back into the castle. Their detention was supposed to end at dawn, but after all that, Hagrid decided they had done enough.

Ron was asleep in the common room. Harry woke him to tell him what happened.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville huddled around the fire, but Harry couldn’t sit. He paced frantically, hands shaking.

“Voldemort—the stone is for Voldemort. That’s got to be what Snape’s after.”

“Don’t say his name,” Neville said in a terrified whisper.

Harry didn’t take notice. “Firenze saved me from Voldemort—he was the one drinking unicorn blood, while he waits for Snape to get him the stone. And Bane was upset with Firenze for saving me—for going against the planets—Voldemort’s coming back and the stars say he’s going to kill me.”

“Stop saying his name,” Ron hissed at him.

“So now we just have to wait for Snape to steal the stone and then Voldemort can come finish me off.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice strong even though her face was very pale, “Everyone knows Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, you can’t be touched. And anyway, Professor McGonagall says Divination is a very imprecise branch of magic.”

But Harry thought about what his mother said, that Voldemort would come back for him. He didn’t think the stars were wrong about that.

As they climbed up to bed, with the sun rising, Neville pinched Harry’s sleeve and whispered quietly, “My parents are Aurors. I can tell them for you. They’ll be able to help.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks Neville. I think if we’ve got Dumbledore, we’ll be alright.”

Neville almost smiled at Harry, or at least, his pale face twitched into something that looked like a hopeful smile. “Okay. You’re right.”

Harry pulled back the sheets on his bed and found the Invisibility Cloak underneath, with a note pinned on it that read, “Just in case.”

Harry tucked it under his pillow and crawled into bed. He was exhausted, and fell asleep immediately, but didn’t sleep well at all. He dreamed of a hooded figure and hooves pounding in his head. He dreamed of a woman screaming and a bright flash of green light and his scar burned through it all.

————

Draco Malfoy,

I heard you had detention this evening. I hope it was at least something more exciting than copying lines or polishing trophies.

I’m not sure how you found out Harry had a dragon, but I imagine it wasn’t a secret he chose to share with you. The next time something like this happens, I advise you to go directly to a teacher. Telling me out of some sort of spite seems rather ineffective, don’t you think?

Even better, if you and Harry could work your problems out between the two of you, I think you could be good friends. You both remind me of two very good friends of mine when I was in school.

Sincerely, Remus Lupin.

————

Mr. Lupin,

Do you know what sort of creature drinks unicorn blood?

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

P.S. I hear Hags are still classified as Beings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the letters between Draco and Remus haven't weirded anyone out. But I wrote out their conversation from the Quidditch game in Chapter 14 and it seemed like a mentorship Remus wouldn't back away from. I have my own headcanons about Remus's absent father (high up in the ministry, but his werewolf-son is always broke? suspicious imo), so I can see Remus looking at Draco and seeing a boy who just needs someone to look out for him and all of his natural teaching skills would drive him to fill that role.
> 
> As always, I love hearing your criticisms, questions, comments, and headcanons.


	16. Through the Trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and letters and the return of Lord Voldemort.

Dear Sirius,

Detention was exciting. We went into the Forbidden Forest. Met some centaurs.

I know I tell you lots of stuff and make you promise not to tell Mum and Dad, but can you keep this one a secret, too?

When we were in the Forbidden Forest, we were looking for a hurt unicorn. I finally found it, but it was already dead. And something was drinking its blood. Then it came for me. It was terrifying. A dark, hooded, cloaked-thing. A centaur named Firenze scared it off and saved me. But I keep having nightmares about it. And there’s this green flash. And a woman screaming. Sometimes it sounds like Mum. And my scar keeps hurting.

Promise you won’t tell them? They get weird about my scar. All quiet and distant, and I don’t want them to worry. It’s just nightmares like normal, right?

Love,

Harry

————

Dear Harry,

Congrats on surviving your first detention! You’ll make it alright.

I wouldn’t worry too much about your nightmares. Your finals are coming up, aren’t they? The Forbidden Forest can be a bit scary, and the extra stress of exams can make it worse.

You’re better off asking your Dad or Remus about what you saw. It sounds a bit like a Dementor, but those aren’t in the Forbidden Forest. Might’ve been a Boggart.

I promise not to tell your parents about it, but you really shouldn’t feel like you can’t tell them. They’re your Mum and Dad, and no one but them loves you more. They only want what’s best for you, and sometimes they get a little worried about you. It’s because they love you.

I told Remus I was getting some stress headaches and he gave me a funny look, but recommended some teas. I tucked the recipes in. Maybe you can sneak some potions supplies out from under Snape’s nose, eh? And I also added on some hexes for that Malfoy kid. Nothing de-stresses for exams like hexing Slytherins who deserve it.

Best of luck!

Love,

Sirius

————

Dear Remus,

I had detention in the Forbidden Forest. We were looking for a hurt unicorn. We didn’t find it in time, though. But I met some centaurs. One of them was friendly. His name was Firenze. The other two didn’t seem to like me much. I think they knew about when I was a baby and You-Know-Who tried to kill me, Mum, and Dad. They didn’t seem real happy about the whole thing. Are all centaurs like that? They kept talking about Mars. But we don’t take Divination until third year, so I have no idea what it means.

What happens to you if you kill a unicorn? And are the centaurs any better at Divination than humans?

Love,

Harry

————

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry you had to see a dead unicorn. It’s a tragic thing. No one should have to see something like that.

But you’re very lucky to have met some centaurs! They don’t usually like talking with humans, but I understand Hagrid is on decent terms with them. I’m glad you met Firenze. He is a dear friend of mine who helped me through a lot of difficult times at Hogwarts.

I wouldn’t take anything the other two said personally. Centaurs generally aren’t sociable, but I’ve heard they’re more cantankerous than usual. The Ministry’s been pushing through new laws and restricting what lands they’re allowed to live on. Dumbledore’s been very kind to let the roam the forests around Hogwarts. And if you’re worried that they’re supporters of You-Know-Who, rest easy. Centaurs stay out of the affairs of humans, and if it came down to it, You-Know-Who would exterminate them. He was never fond of half-breeds in his regime.

Good luck on your finals. I’ve included some recipes for relaxation and increased concentration. They’re not potions, just teas with magical properties. So it isn’t cheating, and you should be able to brew them yourself. I think Ms. Granger might like to try them as well.

Love,

Remus Lupin

————

Dear Mum and Dad

Finals are coming up. Hermione has made color-coded notes for us and everything, so I think we’ll be okay.

Detention was fine. And I feel bad about losing the points for Gryffindor, but we were breaking rules for the right reasons, so I don’t feel bad about what we did. It was to protect Hagrid, and that’s okay. But the Forbidden Forest is pretty terrifying. I was glad we had Hagrid. And we met some centaurs.

I’ll see you guys soon.

Love,

Harry

————

Dear Harry,

Best of luck on your finals. I included some scones for a midnight study snack. But the best thing for you is a good night’s sleep.

Your father seems to think you must’ve had a grand old time in the Forbidden Forest. I think he and Sirius and Uncle Remus did a lot of illegal adventuring in their day. I hope you weren’t too frightened.

I’ve never seen a centaur. They’re supposed to be lovely. You’ll have to tell us all about it when you come home.

We’ll see you soon!

Lots of love,

Mum and Dad

————

And somehow, they made it through finals. Voldemort never came pouncing out of any hidden doors, or ducked around dark corners. And no one fainted—though Neville nearly did in Potions.

Their last exam was History of Magic. Then they were free to relax beside the lake. At least, Harry and Ron were relaxing. Hermione was going over her notes, looking for the answers to all the exam questions.

“The 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct wasn’t all that important, or Elfric the Eager.”

“The 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct was revolutionary,” Harry said, “and it prevented hunters from coming after werewolves who abided by the rules. It allowed Werewolves to be treated like Beings and not Dark Beasts.”

“I know that,” Hermione snapped. “I just meant for the exam.”

“The exam is over. Why not just pay attention to the parts that matter?”

“Like the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct?” Ron laughed, and Harry’s ears burned, but he couldn’t explain to Ron why the Werewolf Code of Conduct was so important.

Harry sat up and rubbed his forehead. He saw Neville, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones coming down the path. He hadn’t talked to Susan hardly at all this year. He wondered briefly what her exams had been like, then pain shot through his scar.

“I wish I knew what it means! It happens sometimes, but not as often as this.”

“Maybe Madam Pomfrey will know what to do,” suggested Hermione.

“I’m not ill. Maybe it’s a warning. I think it means danger’s coming.”

But it was too hot out to convince Ron and Hermione to do anything. They told him he was just stressed from the exams, and that there was no sense worrying with Dumbledore around. And that they at least were sure Snape didn’t know how to get past Fluffy, since he’d failed last Halloween. So there was nothing to worry about, because Hagrid would never turn against Dumbledore.

Harry jumped up so suddenly, he startled his friends. “We’ve got to see Hagrid right now.” He walked so quickly towards Hagrid’s hut, his friends had to jog to keep up with them.

“Don’t you think it’s odd,” Harry explained, “that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?”

“What are you talking about?” Ron groaned as they approached Hagrid’s hut.

Hagrid was sitting outside and smiled pleasantly at the trio. “Hullo. Exams all finished? Want ter stay fer tea?”

Ron started to accept, but Harry interrupted. “You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?”

Hagrid scratched at his beard. “Dunno. He wouldn’ take his cloak off. It’s not that unusual. Yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head—Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he?”

“Did you talk to him about Hogwarts at all?”

“Mighta come up. Yeah… he asked me what I did, I told ‘im I look after the creatures here. I said I’d always wanted a dragon egg. He kept buyin’ me drinks…. I told ‘im after Fluffy, a dragon’d be easy.”

“And did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“Well—yeah. How many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even at Hogwarts? So I told ‘im, Fluffy’s a piece of cake if yeh know how to calm him down. Jus’ play a bit o’ music and he’ll go straight off ter sleep—“

That was all Harry needed to hear. He ignored Hagrid shouting after him as he headed up to the castle. “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore. Snape has everything he needs to get into the dungeon and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

They started up towards the Headmaster’s office, but they were stopped at the stairs by Professor McGonagall.

“You wanted to see Professor Dumbledore?” she said with a frown. “Why?”

“Er—it’s a secret,” Harry explained weakly.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left at once for London.”

“He’s gone? Now? But this is important!”

“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard. He has many demands—“

“Professor McGonagall, it’s about the Philosopher's Stone—“

Professor McGonagall dropped all her books to the floor in shock, and did not even stoop to pick them up. “How do you know—“

“Professor, I think Snape is going to steal the stone and I’ve got to tell Professor Dumbledore.”

McGonagall’s shock gave way to suspicion. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it. It’s far too well protected.”

She refused to listen to any more of the stories and explanations, and the three were forced to retreat to their common room in defeat. Harry whispered to them that he was sure it would be tonight that Snape went to steal the stone.

“But without Dumbledore,” Hermione said, “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I can steal the stone first,” Harry said, green eyes determined.

“You can’t! You’ll be expelled!”

“You’re mad if you think you can do that, mate. There’s a whole pack of enchantments protecting the stone.”

“So what?” Harry shouted at them. “How do I make you guys understand?” He lowered his voice so the rest of the common room couldn’t hear. “If Snape gets the stone, Voldemort comes back. You’ve all heard what it was like when he tried to take over. There won’t be a Hogwarts left. He killed a lot of people and I won’t let it happen again. Not when I can do something about it.” Harry thought maybe this was what Firenze meant when he said there was something horrible in his future. He was going to face Voldemort for the stone. Well, it was that or do nothing, and if his parents, Sirius, and Uncle Remus had taught him anything, it was that doing nothing was just as bad as going dark.

“Yes, you’re right,” Hermione said very quietly.

“I’ll take the Invisibility Cloak so I don’t get caught.”

“Is it big enough to cover all three of us?” Ron asked.

“You don’t have to come—“

“As if we’d let you go alone.”

“How do you think you’ll get to the Stone without us?” Hermione sniffed. “I’m going to go through my books for some useful spells.”

Harry’s chest swelled. He hadn’t thought they’d help him. It’d be dangerous, and maybe they didn’t understand, but it would be wonderful to have someone with him. Wonderful to have the two people outside his family that he trusted most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 17 is done just waiting for it to be beta'd because someone offered and I guess now chapters will be beta'd before they get posted. So that's a thing.
> 
> As always, headcanons appreciated!


	17. The Man with Two Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter faces Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,

I am writing to inform you of your child’s exemplary performance inside and outside the classroom.

Hermione has received nothing but praise from her teachers on her intense desire to learn, and performed exceptionally well on her exams this term. She is a remarkable student. Outside of the classroom, she has stood up to bullies and reversed hexes performed on her classmates with the skills at least two years above her current level.

When Hermione believed the school—and our entire wizarding world to be in danger—but found the help from her professors to be insufficient, she and her friends took it upon themselves to do what they deemed necessary.

Hermione faced a Cerberus and charmed it to sleep with a spell at a third year level. She rescued her friends from a vine with a fire spell at a fifth-year level. She participated in a chess match with an incredible display of bravery and solved a logic puzzle under enormous pressure. She is an incredible girl with a brilliant mind and a very brave heart. You should be proud.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

————

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

I am writing to inform you of your child’s exemplary behavior at school, both inside and outside the classroom.

Ronald has received good marks on his exams and no teacher has described him as disruptive or rude in the classroom. Outside of class he has befriended students who are otherwise bullied, and both stood up for them as well as encouraged them to stand up for themselves.

When Ronald believed both the school and the wizarding world to be in danger, and he was dissatisfied with the way his teachers handled the situation, he and his friends took it upon themselves to do what they deemed to be necessary.

Ronald used his knowledge of the wizarding world to encourage his friends to perform to their best. He also played the best game of wizard’s chess ever seen in our history, against a chess set of my own making. Not only did he outwit the chess match, he risked his own life so his friends could go on to save the school and the wizarding world.

Your son is intelligent and brave, proving his place in his house to be not the result of family lineage, but of true merit. You should be proud.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

————

Dear James and Lily Potter,

Harry is an incredibly bright and gifted wizard. he performed excellently on his exams and has shown remarkable growth for a wizard his age, not unlike yourselves, when you were in school here. Even his penchant for mischief and rule-breaking stems from a good nature and desire to help others.

Harry knew that the school and the greater wizarding world were in danger from the return of the worst evil our generations have witnessed, and when he felt that the authorities were not responding properly, he went and took care of it himself.

Harry went after the Philosopher’s Stone to prevent Voldemort’s return to power and stopped Voldemort himself. The love you two had for him when you stood between him and Voldemort ten years ago protected Harry and gave Harry what he needed to destroy Voldemort.

We always expected great things from Harry. We knew facing Voldemort was inevitable. Harry has been raised into a fine young boy with bravery, courage, and compassion far beyond what we hoped for. You should be very proud.

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

\--- --- ---

James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius were all in attendance to pick Harry up from the station. There was a lot of hugging. Lily cried and kissed his forehead, several times. James squeezed his shoulder and smiled. Sirius tousled his hair and joked about his detention. Remus smiled and congratulated him.

At home, there was cake and tea and Harry shared all his best stories with excitement. They went over his infamous dive for the Rememberall again, and his Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. He told the full story of Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, and their midnight ascent to the astronomy tower, and how they put Gryffindor in last place for the House Cup. Sirius thought the whole thing a riot, and teased Harry endlessly for forgetting the cloak. Remus thought the dragon smuggling harness very clever, and James was offended that he was only just now finding out about the dragon. Lily told Harry he was very smart and kind to solve the dragon problem all on his own without getting Hagrid into trouble.

Harry told them about the conversation he saw between Snape and Quirrell (“Professor Snape, Harry.”) in the forest. He told them about when he overheard Quirrell talking again, and only just missed who he was speaking to. He told them how he decided to get the stone before Voldemort, because Dumbledore was gone. He told them that Neville actually stood up to them, and now he was very happy for Neville, but then it had been horribly inconvenient. He told them about Hermione lighting the Devil’s Snare on fire. He told them about catching the key on the broom. He told them about Ron’s incredible chess game, as play-by-play as he could remember. He told them about the potions puzzle, and how Hermione was able to solve it quickly.

He told them how he was surprised to find Professor Quirrell in the final chamber. He told them Quirrell had taken off his turban and Voldemort was attached to Quirrell underneath it. He told them how he found the stone without meaning to, and that Voldemort tried to take it from him and kill him. But there was a burning sensation in his hands and Voldemort and Quirrell melted when he touched them.

He told them what Dumbledore told him: That when Peter Pettigrew died to protect the Potters, and Lily stood up to Voldemort for Harry, they were protected by the magic of love and self-sacrifice. That Voldemort could touch neither Harry nor Lily nor James because of the spell.

He told them how Dumbledore awarded the points at the end of the term, and Gryffindor won the House Cup.

Late into the evening, Remus and Sirius said good night. Harry was half-awake when his parents carried him upstairs to his room.

“He’s nearly too big for this,” James grunted.

“We could levitate him—“

“I got it.”

Harry pretend to stay asleep as his dad set him down in his bed. He heard his mother whisper, “Nox.”

“So is that it, then?” James whispered. “You-Know-Who is gone and our boy did it?”

“Seems so.” Lily sighed. “But don’t forget about the parseltongue. Dumbledore warned us that—“

“That’s a gift.”

“Not a traditional Potter family gift.”

“It doesn’t mean that Harry’s—“

“Shh…”

The door clicked shut and the clock downstairs chimed 3:33.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and headcanons! They are always appreciated.
> 
> I'm taking a vacation this coming week, and I plan to take Chamber of Secrets with me. I have to reread the books two or three times during the course of writing and making lots of notes. (Easy now; won't be so fun when I get to Goblet of Fire...)
> 
> So expect me to start the next book in a month or so.


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